The Long Road Home
by FortunesRevolver
Summary: With the fall of the Berlin Wall, Prussia is finally able to return home, but he is little more than a shell of his former self. Germany tries desperately to tend to his brother's wounds, but Gilbert is quickly losing his will to live. FULL SUMM INSIDE!
1. Prologue

So here it is... _**The Long Road Home**~ _I've been planning this story for a while now, and I'm really glad I can finally start working on it. I've had so many ideas for what I want to do, and I'm still working out what I will and won't use. I do know this story will end up much longer than _**My**** Heart's Musician**_, but I'm also hoping that it will be better than that one, as well.

As some of you should know, this is a re-uploading of the story _**How to Save a Life**_, which I posted a month or so again. In a sense, this is the same story, only in more detail with all the good stuff, so I'm going to have to explain something quickly.

Below is the prologue of the story, and it _is not _the beginning of this tale. It's sort of giving you a small snip-it of what will be happening LATER in the story (sort of like a teaser, I guess) because I decided to change the route in which this story takes compared to what I posted for _**How to Save a Life**_. I will, however, be taking How to Save a Life off of by the end of the month to avoid trouble with double-posting stories. So hopefully all the people reading that will have gotten the note I posted over there for that.

Happily, chapter 1 should be up within a few hours... It all depends on the person who I have to edit returning in a timely manner.

Now, without further ado, let's get this show on the road!

**Full Summary:** _With the fall of the Berlin Wall, Prussia is finally able to return home, but he is little more than a shell of his former self. Germany tries desperately to tend to his brother's wounds, but Gilbert is quickly losing his will to live. Unable to help his brother, Ludwig seeks the help of the only person who he knows can help. _

**Pairings:** PrussiaxAustria [main couple] with: GermanyxItaly, AmericaxEngland, and hopefully some ChinaxJapan

_**EDIT:**_ I don't know what went wrong with the uploading of this chapter, but I've fixed it. I hope.

I also might change the name of this story to "Don't Fear the Reaper" or "Break My Fall".

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A thin, frail hand pressed itself against the cold surface of the Berlin Wall. It trembled slightly, the arm attached to it weak and near useless, having lost most of its once proud strength long ago. Sorrowful crimson eyes stared at the hand, noting how much smaller it looked compared to the vast concrete surface it was pressed against.

Sighing softly, Prussia stepped back slowly, his gaze lowering to the ground. Countless times had he come to visit this wall, only to futilely push against it in the vain hope that it would crumble beneath his weak grip. His seemingly undying iron-will had evaporated years ago and the cocky 'holier-than-thou' attitude was completely gone, buried so deeply in his mind that even he could barely remember it, let alone reach it.

A bell began to ring in the distance, making Gilbert shudder. That wasn't a good sign. He should have gone back to the mansion hours ago. Russia was going to be furious; he wasn't supposed to be out here at all. He'd been lucky enough to find a means of slipping out and into the open air for the first time in months, but as he turned away from the wall, it suddenly didn't seem worth all the trouble he'd gone through to do it. His body was already screaming in protest from being used too much for the day, only sheer will-power keeping him conscious and on his feet.

_Heh,_ the albino chuckled weakly, slowly making his way back down the path that would lead him to the city and, eventually, Ivan's house. _I'm so fucked. West… I hope you're doing better than me. They sure as hell better be taking care of you over there, because I swear to Gott if you're feeling even a fraction of what I'm going through… I'll… I'll…_

* * *

"You're late, da," the voice made Gilbert wince. His back was to the room, hand still resting on the door handle, but he didn't need to turn around to know who it was. He lowered his hand, letting it fall limply to his side. Maybe if he looked ashamed, he might be 'forgiven' this time.

He almost laughed as he felt a thick-gloved hand clasp his shoulder. Of course he wouldn't have been let off so easily, after all, he never had. Russia likely knew how upset the people of East Germany were getting, and he could tell his grip on the albino wouldn't last much longer. He was making the most of the time that he still had control over Prussia, and Gilbert could do nothing about it.

"I thought I told you no going out today, da." Russia muttered, his hand tightening its grip on Prussia's shoulder. "How did you manage to sneak out of your room? You didn't break the door again, did you, da? I'd hate to have to punish you for breaking another door… Was it Latvia again? Did he let you out, da?"

_Yes_, Prussia thought silently, not daring to speak out loud. In truth, Latvia had been indirectly responsible for his escape, the albino had swiped the keys from the brunette's belt during his daily mealtime – if one could call it that. The meal was usually small, yet quite satisfying if Estonia or Lithuania had prepared it. Unfortunately, it was rare for him to eat the whole thing, let alone keep it down; he didn't wish to get Raivis in trouble. Despite Russia's orders to keep away from Prussia unless necessary, the young nation had been good to him, even going so far as to dress his wounds after repeated series of torture in the hellhole of a basement.

"Are you going to answer me, da? Or do I have to persuade you?"

Prussia laughed harshly, finally turning around and look the Russian in the eyes. "Does it matter?" he asked in a low tone, smirking weakly. "No matter what answer I give you, it won't change anything. The curiosity can eat your mind away for all I care. I'm not telling you a damned thing, you fucking russki."

Gilbert barely had time to fully register what he'd just said before a fist connected with his jaw, knocking him backward and causing his head to slam into the door with a loud crack. His vision blurred and small lights danced before his eyes. Tears gathered in his crimson orbs by reflex, but the pain felt dull compared to all he'd been through over the past twenty-eight years.

"What did I tell you about talking back?"

Laughing, the albino shook his head slowly, fixing Ivan with a half-hearted glare. "I'll say whatever the hell I please," he spat, smirking in faint satisfaction as the blood that had filled his mouth moments ago splatter against Russia's scarf. He may have been near his breaking point, but he still had small scraps of his pride left, and he'd be damned before he allowed Russia to know just how far under Gilbert's skin he'd managed to get.

"That won't do, da…" Russia muttered with a sickly sweet smile. "You're going to have to stay in your room for the rest of the night now, da. I was going to invite you to supper, too, da. Your people are getting restless, and the wall won't be able to stay up for much longer, da. It's too bad."

Dread swam in the pit of Russia's stomach as he felt Ivan grab his tie in a vice-grip and jerk him forward. Lips were forced on his and he nearly gagged, the taste of vodka overwhelming as his eyes darted downward and he noticed for the first time, a bottle of the repulsive clear liquid in the Russian's hand. That meant Russia had been drinking, that he was drunk, and that… that…

Fear quickly replaced disgust and Gilbert tried to pull away, but Russia was far too strong for him. His body could barely hold him up, giving the albino no hope for escaping the fate he knew would soon come. Things were always worse when the Russian was drunk, and the sadistic look in the violet eyes staring down at him and all-too-sweet smirk told him that tonight would likely be the worst in the near thirty years he'd been stuck there.

"Let's go, shall we, da?"

With a small, whimper, Prussia felt himself being dragged forward. He didn't bother to fight back, he knew it was useless. He could only pray that, by the end of the night, he'd be able to open his eyes again.


	2. Chapter One

Aha, as promised, here is chapter one! Woohoo! This has to be the faster chapter update I've ever had. Seriously. As I said in the prologue, this chapter sort of goes back in time, and will be continued from this point onward until we reach the prologue again, and then will continue forward even further from there. Hopefully this isn't too confusing to anyone, but I'll be adding dates at the start of each chapter to avoid that, just to be safe.

Until then, here is this.

_**REVIEWS ARE LOVE!!!**_

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**_October, 1949_**

"Gilbert!"

Gilbert stopped, his gaze locked with the ground as he tried to ignore the broken tone of his brother's voice. His fists clenched at his sides as Ivan chuckled beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping it in a painfully tight manner that forced him to keep moving forward. A low growl emitted from his throat, and the smile on the Russian's face melted into a playful pout as he pushed again, earning more resistance and a slap to his hand as the albino took a step to the side.

"Gilbert, stop! _Please!"_

Ignoring Ivan's sigh of disappointment, he turned around, meeting Ludwig's horrified gaze with a sad smile. On the German's left were Arthur and Yao, with Alfred on his right. Arthur and Yao looked slightly thinner than Gilbert had remembered them, but he had noticed the pair of them come in next to the much stronger-looking Alfred. The American seemed to radiate strength and power, even though he was the youngest of the group. It was easy for the silverette that the sandy-haired youth was helping the other two carry on; he knew how strong his brother was, and next to himself, Alfred was the only one who stood a physical chance at holding him down. Though the German's strength did little for him at this rate, his injuries from the war weren't anything to turn one's nose at, and were likely the key factor in giving the others a change in holding him down.

Behind the group of struggling nations, Gilbert could see Feliciano whimpering on his knees, learning against the legs of Antonio, a long strip of tattered white material clutched tightly in his hands that appeared to have lost its use as a flag and now doubled as a handkerchief. Standing just a few inches away from the Italian was his older brother, white bandages visible under his tattered uniform, and clutched tightly in the arms of Antonio who was gazing, not quite at the albino's face, but a few inches to the left of his shoulder with a pained expression on his face. The Spaniard had been one of the few, surprisingly enough, who had voiced his protests about Gilbert being handed over to Ivan "like tomatoes no one wanted to eat" until the very end; and Gilbert was grateful for it. Antonio had always proved himself a loyal friend, despite his inability to read the surrounding atmosphere of any situation he'd ever been in.

Kiku, not at all to Gilbert's surprise, was not present at all. The young raven was still unconscious in a hospital bed and recovering from the grievous attacks he'd suffered from the American nation he dragged into the war. However, despite the vast amount of critical injuries he has sustained, it seemed that he was stable enough for the doctors to be leaning more toward the confident side of recovery. At least, that was what he'd overheard from Yao, who, despite his boss' protests, made it a point to visit the fellow Asian nation at least once a day.

Off to the side, several feet from anyone else, was Francis, a distant look in his sapphire eyes as he met Gilbert's crimson gaze. A storm of emotion danced in the other's eyes; anger, sadness, guilt, hesitance, confusion, hate, and more things the Prussian didn't bother trying to find the name for. Silence had passed between the two as they gazed at one another, keeping completely still, until finally, Francis nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching in discomfort. A wordless agreement had passed between the two, and the silverette was satisfied enough that the other had understood.

It was almost surprising that the blond, who would run almost as fast as the Italians behind him at the sight of trouble, was the only one who had been able to meet his gaze aside from the German nation who was voicing loud protests against his holders. Arthur had moved his gaze toward the ground, Yao had been too focused on keeping his grip on Ludwig, and Alfred and looked away the moment the albino had tried to meet his eyes.

There wasn't a single person in the clearing aside from the Russian himself who thought Gilbert deserved the punishment he was about to be given. His country, or what was left of it at the time of the war, had never agreed to what had been going on. The albino had given _all_ the nations more than several earfuls of colourful rants about his thoughts on the tyrannical leader's way of doing things when his brother wasn't in the room. It was obvious to anyone who heard them that, had Ludwig's well-being not been at stake, he would have attempted to dispose of the man with his own hands.

"You're stalling," Ivan said quietly, loud enough for only Gilbert to hear over his brother's shouted protests. "You can't change your choice now, da."

"No! GILBERT!"

"Don't worry about me, West…" the Prussian said, raising a hand in a silent bid of farewell. "I'll be home sooner thank you think, so keep the fridge full of beer. I'll want an entire case to myself when I get back!" His tone of voice seemed to take everyone by surprise. It was calm and even, brimming with obviously forced confidence instead of his normal cocky and holier-than-thou manner of speech. Everyone there knew what Ivan was capable of, but no one dared voice their thoughts on the matter.

Behind him, Gilbert could hear Ivan huffing in faint impatience as he began tugging on the silverette's collar, his grip firm and leaving no room for argument. He knew better than to keep the stalling act up, and he moved to turn around, until movement further behind Antonio caught his attention; a familiar head of well-kept brown hair and unusual fly-away curl and pair of violet eyes that found his before he could start to look for them.

"Roderich…" he muttered under his breath, earning another tug from Ivan, causing him to stumble several feet backward and nearly lose his balance.

The Austrian seemed to be watching in frozen disbelief, staring at Gilbert as if he weren't actually there and the entire event wasn't taking place. Roderich's lips were moving quickly and silently, forming words that the silverette couldn't make out or understand as he took a dumb step forward, a slender arm outstretched for several seconds before it fell limply to his side, Gilbert's heart falling with it. Roderich had been the only one who had kept completely silent on his personal views of handing the Prussian over to Ivan, speaking only in place of his leaders views on the matter of splitting the German land.

He had, for one shining moment, thought the musician had come to say something, anything against what Ivan was doing, but they were both left with nothing. As Ivan continued to drag Gilbert away, a gleeful smile on his round face, the two stared at each other in silence, their eyes fighting to say words that couldn't be understood or said, but the efforts were in vain. The minutes passed, and the two retreating figures became smaller and smaller to the group of still nations until they disappeared completely from view.

A loud, uncharacteristic wail poured from Ludwig's lips as he wrenched himself from the Allies grip and ran several feet forward, clumsily collapsing to his knees as tears gathered in his bright blue eyes, blond hair falling out if it's normally slicked-backs style and falling into his face. Feliciano let out a small yelp and scrambled to his feet, racing over to the fallen German and wrapped his arms tightly around the other's shoulders. Another choked sob tumbled from the blond's lips and he turned, pulling the Italian into an uncomfortably tight embrace that wasn't protested beyond a small yelp of surprise, and buried his face in Feliciano's shoulder.

No one noticed as Roderich turned on his heel and left without a word, leaving the rest to deal on their own.

* * *

Long, elegant fingers danced across the pristine white keys of the grand piano in Roderich's music room. The notes of Chopin's "Revolution" echoed loudly throughout the room resonating into the hallways were they seemingly bounced off the walls with a powerful force and back into the room. The music set a heavy atmosphere throughout the house as the song was played over and over again, the tempo increasing and decreasing in speed at an almost compulsive rate as the notes were hit with more force each time they were hit.

The Austrian's eyes were clamped shut in tight concentration as his body swayed with the violent music, not noticing as his shoulders began to tremble by the third time playing through the song. The trembles traveled down to his fingers, causing the notes to come out hesitant and shakily, the final notes of the fourth play filling the silent house, then melted into the much slower and sorrowful tune of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata", the song lasting barely more than a few measures before the music stopped. The only sound in the house left by the heart-wrenching sobs of Roderich as he doubled over, hugging himself tightly, as he sent as cascade of raindrops down onto the keys that were never meant to be played.


	3. Chapter Two

**Naomi Hansen:**_ In fact,_ you _were_ the first reviewer, and I thank you for the review. Sorry to hear your mother was pressuring you, but thanks for the quick review anyway.

**LolliDictator:** It is different than "How to Save a Life", but technically, this is just a rewrite of that one. The stories are the same, I just got a better idea to write the story THIS way than the way I had it going in the other one. I had Gilbert home too soon, and I wanted to write about behind the wall, as well.

**MindFuel:** I'm really glad you like the changes already. Personally, I really like what I have planned, but I'm really worried the readers might not.... Still, I've got a lot ready to go and I'm already almost done with chapter four, so things seem to be going well.

**xxXSporkSistaXxx:** I doubt it's the best you've ever read... It's barely started. I'm sorry about making you cry... but I'm glad that it's able to get the emotion across. I'm not sure I have the characters perfectly, but it's good to know someone else things of the Bad Touch Trio like me~

**CrystalLotus98: **Don't worry, I like my angst too... Though I like my fluff just as much. I'll be continuing this story for sure, and I hope to have updates a little more often than what I had for _**My Heart's Musician. **_

**Dark Dragon of the Never:** It's always good to know that a story of mine as promise.

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This took longer to get up than I wanted, but I've never actually written anything that could be mature content before... I ended up re-writing the scene at least six times, and I was left feeling a bit jerkish after I did. Because I didn't want to make this an M-rated story, I tried to imply it more than write it, and I've also marked the mature part of this chapter (lasts only about four paragraphs).

It's my first time EVERY writing ANYTHING that could be considered mature... so advice from anyone who actually knows what they are doing is welcome. I really don't know what I'm doing. Anyway, here is the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy~

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Chapter Two**

**_August, 1961_**

**_(First year of the wall)  
_**

A low growl emitted from Gilbert's throat as he was pulled down one of the many stone staircases in Ivan's home. His wrists and ankles were chained together, limiting his movements and making it impossible to attack from the angle he was forced to walk on the stairs. A third chain attached to a thick leather collar around his neck scrapped against the cement flooring, jingling with each tug Ivan gave it on the other end. It was an insult to his masculinity; he felt like a dog, and the Russian knew it, and had no remorse whatsoever in making Gilbert wallow in his embarrassment.

By the time they reached the lowest level, the Prussian was borderline furious with the blow to his dignity. He tugged uselessly against the chains and stubbornly refused to move a step further when they'd reached the bottom of the stairs, fixing the back of Ivan's head with a murderous glare.

"Don't be like that," Ivan said in a cheery tone, smiling over his shoulder. "Your new room is just ahead, da. It's just perfect for you, da."

"Fuck you…" Gilbert growled, giving the chain another sharp tug. The Russian's fingers slipped, fumbling slightly to keep their grip on the metal links, and the albino felt a small rush of pride course through him.

It had been twelve years since the Prussian had been pulled away from his home in Germany. Ivan had wasted no time in forcing him to do ridiculous jobs he didn't want to do, and he was rewarded with only enough food to keep him strong enough for the next demand. He would have refused them, but the threat of Ivan striking Germany, of hurting his brother, when they were at their most vulnerable was constantly held over his head. The countries of Russia and America were currently at their strongest, and it wouldn't be out of Ivan's range of power to crush his brother with little more than the blink of an eye—and there would be little anyone could do to stop it.

"That's not a nice thing to say to the person taking care of you, da…" the Russian said, smile still in place as he gave the chain another tug. Gilbert felt the collar around his neck constrict and he choked, stumbling forward several feet much to Ivan's satisfaction. "We had an agreement, da. You said you'd do anything I told you too—you're my new toy, da. It'd be a pity if my soldier's got bored and decided to pay your brother a visit…"

"You're a sick bastard…" the silverette snarled, taking several more reluctant steps forward before allowing Ivan to lead him down the hall.

The further they went, the colder it seemed to get, and by the time they reached a large mahogany at the end, Gilbert had started to shiver. Unlike Ivan, his clothes weren't meant to keep him warm in extreme cold for long periods of time, and they'd barely been enough to keep him comfortable in the rest of the taller nation's stone home in the middle of a vast snowy land.

"In here…" the violet-eyed nation hummed, opening the door and stepping aside. "Go inside."

Not wanting to feel another painful tug from the chain, Gilbert did as he was told and walked into what he quickly noticed was a windowless room made of cement; a basement of some sort, from the looks of it. Furnishings were minimal and consisted of a small cot in the corner with several flimsy looking sheets and a rusted chair sitting beside it. Several different sets of chains that looked as if they were meant for holding prisoners at various angles hung limply against the walls, and the cold air from within made the room feel as if it could have been used as a make-shift freezer storage area.

Turning around, the Prussian fixed Ivan with an incredulous look, as if expecting him to suddenly start laughing at a cruel joke he'd just pulled and to tug him out of the room for his next job. He waited. One minute, then two, which melted into three and longer still, but the taller nation simply regarded him with the overly-cheery smile as if expecting him to speak first. Which he did.

"What the _hell_ is this supposed to be? A damn freezer?"

"I already told you, this is your new room, da."

Gilbert would have said the Russian was spouting bullshit, but the cold chill running down his spine and suddenly tug of horror in his chest told him it was true. His mouth twitched with unspoken words of protest, swallowing each one down as it rose in his throat. Ivan would enjoy it too much if he fought back; the Russian seemed to live for watching him fight and snarl like a cat thrown in water. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction that he was getting under his skin. Once Ivan knew how to do that, it was all over.

"It looks cozy…" he lied, looking around the room in feigned interest. If there was one thing he'd always been skilled at, it was deception. It wasn't often that he needed to put the trade to use, but when on the battlefield, it was always good to have a quick tongue when you were facing an enemy unarmed. More than once his clever use of words had saved him a few bullets worth of pain, and he was going to use every trick in the book to keep Ivan frustrated enough that he wanted nothing to do with the silverette.

"I'm glad you like it," his captor replied, taking several steps into the room and reaching out. The chains binding him were removed and tossed into the corner; likely for quick access should he decide to get too smart. "You'll be in here for the remainder of your stay."

Before Gilbert could even think about what 'the remainder of his stay' entailed, the door was slammed shut as Ivan left him alone in the cold darkness of the room. The only source of light was a single dying light-bulb that hung from the ceiling, flickering as it desperately tried to keep lit under the freezing temperatures. Every few minutes it would die completely, before bursting back into a dull glow.

The bed, as the Prussian quickly found out, was little more than a used mattress sitting on a board of springs. It was lumpy and awkwardly shaped, though he suspected the cool fabric was much warmer than the concrete floor. The sheets were thin, worn from years of use and likely something Ivan himself had used at some point in his life many years ago, but they were better than nothing and helped in keeping his own body heat close to him. To his delighted surprise, the pillow, by miracle, was filled with feathers, and thus kept its softness throughout the years. All it took was cradling it in the crook of his arm to raise it to a comfortable level for his next and head to rest on.

The chair was left ignored. He was exhausted, and even the small comfort of the pillow proved enough to calm his burning temper, if only a little. Tugging the sheets around his thin body, he fixed the wall with a dark glare and imagined smashing the Russian's head into it the next time he came into the room. It was a satisfying thought, but an unrealistic one. Ivan knew of Gilbert's physical strength, and seemed to have gone to great lengths to make sure he never had the energy to use it at its fullest. Whatever waking hours he'd had the motivation to move were spent following orders or shoveling the meager meals he'd received down his throat as quickly as possible before Ivan could change his mind and take them back.

"Stupid bastard," he mumbled, pressing his face into the fabric of the pillow. "You think you're going to win this game… but it takes more than a cold room to get me to give up. You've got a long road ahead if you think you have the upper hand." With the small, but satisfying thought for comfort, Gilbert soon found himself falling into an uneasy sleep, unable to remember anything he'd dreamed.

* * *

A painful throb ran through Gilbert's shoulder as he collapsed onto the small cot in the corner of his room. The better part of the last three hours had been spent throwing his entire body against the wooden door that held him captive, trying to knock the barrier off its hinges. Alas, his efforts were left in vain and all his efforts rewarded him were a near-dislocated shoulder and a painful headache that left him seeing stars each time he shut his eyes.

"This is all that stupid bastard's fault…" the Prussian grumbled in a quiet tone. "What the fuck is he getting out of locking me in his fucking meat-storage? He's such a…" Gilbert's statement was quickly cut off as he heard the sound of the lock being undone.

The door was pushed open with a quiet whine from the hinges, and the albino couldn't help but smile at the noise. If anything, the squeak assured him that his hours of word had managed to do some form of damage, even if the effects were minimal. Heavy footsteps echoed off the rock walls as Ivan made his way over to the bed, and it wasn't long before Gilbert could feel the Russian's violet eyes bearing down upon his back. Had he not been in pain, the silverette would have considered saying something smart just to piss his captor off, but the pain in his shoulder had other plans and he held his tongue.

It was his hope that, maybe if he just kept quiet and played possum, Ivan might discard any plans he had and leave him alone for the night; or at least, what he believed to be night. His concept of time had become warped and the only assurance he had that it was, in fact, still moving, was a pocket watch he'd received as a gift from Frederick the Great long ago, and he'd taken special care to make sure that it continued to work. How he had managed to hide it from Ivan this entire time, he didn't know, but he didn't plan on advertising its whereabouts.

"Gilbert," Ivan called in a sing-song tone. "Get up now. I have something I need you to do, da."

The Prussian didn't answer, opting to keep completely still and his eyes shut. He did his best to keep his breathing even. The slightest wrong movement could give him away, and that would only end poorly for him. As long as Ivan _believed_ he was asleep, he'd be alright.

"I know you're not sleeping…" the Russian said with a slight pout in his tone. "I told you to get up, da."

Cursing silently, Gilbert still refused to respond; the last thing he wanted was to deal with the taller nation right now. His shoulder was still throbbing painfully, and the other's voice was doing nothing for his headache. He just wanted to be left alone… but Ivan seemed to have other plans.

"You're not listening, da…" the tone in Ivan's voice had changed too quickly for Gilbert to notice. Before he could react to the sudden change, a hand gripped the back of his collar and he was jerked roughly to the floor, landing hard on his sore shoulder.

"What the-!?" Leaping to his feet, the Prussian let out a low snarl and darted forward, throwing all his weight behind a fist that connected with Ivan's jaw, sending satisfying crack throughout the basement.

Several seconds of complete silence passed as Gilbert grinned at his successful hit and watched a variety of different emotions dance across Ivan's face; surprise, confusion, annoyance, and, much to the Prussian's pleasure, pain. Each one made itself perfectly clear before they would melt away into the next expression before finally settling on anger. By reflex, the albino took a step backward, lowering his fist and wondering if the petty revenge had been worth it; but he didn't have time to think about it.

A whooshing noise filled Gilbert's ears and it was the last thing he heard before a blunt metallic object connected with the side of his head, sending him crashing back down to the floor and atop his bad shoulder for the second time that evening. Stars danced before the albino's eyes as he struggled to push himself into a sitting position. His headache skyrocketed in pain, blowing into a full-blown migraine in a matter of seconds. He whimpered quietly and grabbed his head, glaring at Ivan through watery eyes as he felt something warm and wet trickle down his neck, soaking into the collar of his uniform.

"What the hell is your problem…!?" he shouted, trying to stop the room around him from spinning by blinking rapidly. "Mein Gott, you didn't have to hit me with your fucking pipe!"

"You didn't listen to me…" Ivan repeated as he turned and walked back toward the open door, making Gilbert curse himself for not making an earlier break for it. "You had to be punished, da. This should teach you to listen better."

"I don't have to listen to a damn thing you say!" he growled, try to ease his head's bleeding by leaning forward and pressing a gloved hand to the cut. "The deal was I went with you to keep West safe. You never said I had to be your damned slave."

"But I did… I said you were going to be my new pet when we go home, da. You weren't listening… You should really fix that." Pausing by the door, Ivan glanced over his shoulder and straightened his scarf, fixing Gilbert with an amused look. "I think… missing out on dinner tonight should help convince you to put those ears to better use, da?"

The pain shooting through Gilbert's skull kept him from protesting beyond and angry hissing noise that only made the Russian chuckle in amusement. A thump filled the room as the door was pulled shut, followed shortly by the loud click of the lock being put back into place.

"Dammit…" Gilbert groaned, stumbling back over to the bed and clumsily ripped a strip from his pillowcase. He tried the fabric around his head as best he could and hoped it would be enough to slow the bleeding enough to get it to clot and scab. "That fucker needs to work on his damn temper…"

* * *

**_October, 1971_**

**_(Ten years into the wall)  
_**

The soft jingle of chains filled the otherwise silent room as Gilbert pulled weakly against his bindings. His head was bowed; chin bouncing off his chest lightly as he supported himself on his knees, his legs having lost the strength to hold his body up properly over a year ago. A dull pain ran up and down his arms as his wrist protested heavily against behind the main brace for his body against the icy metal shackles that held him to the wall, leaving his fingers numb from the lack of proper circulation.

Small cuts and gashes lined the Prussian's face and neck, almost half of them still open or bleeding. His left eye was closed in an attempt to keep the blood from a gash above the eyelid from seeping in and obscuring his vision, while the right fluttered weakly, showing off puffy purple bags beneath it against pale skin. Long silver bangs fell over his face, mattered and dirtied from years without proper watch, while knotted strands glued themselves to his face by dry and crusted crimson glue.

A low creak snapped Gilbert out of his dazed state, but still, he did not raise his head. Ivan's boots clapped like close-range thunder against the hard floor, each step sending a shiver down the albino's spine until he was staring at the thick brown material that covered the Russian's feet. The faint swish of liquid in a glass bottle roared in Gilbert's ears as his captor took another swig from the half-empty bottle of vodka clutched tightly in his hand, overlapped only by the dull metallic scrap of the ever-present water pipe as it was dragged across the floor.

"Gilllllberrrrt!" Ivan's called in a loud and slurred tone. "Gilbert, let's play a game, da?"

Ignoring the voice that called him, the Prussian let his crimson eyes wander to the corner of the room where the cot that had been his bed once sat. All that remained were the thin sheet and feathered pillow, both pushed together in a clumsy make-shift sleeping pad far out of his reach. The chair, as rusted and uncomfortable as it had been, was taken shortly after the cot, both stripped from the room as punishment for disobedient actions. A second slosh reached Gilbert's ears as another sip of the vile drink was taken, the smell burning itself deeper into his senses before Ivan spoke again.

"You're ignoring me again…" Gilbert felt his face urged upward by the faucet of the pipe, but he jerked his face away, spitting a mix of saliva and blood on the Russian's feet. He had barely more than a second before a loud cry rattled off the walls and felt something cold and hard hit the side of his face, shattering upon impact and sending a cascade of glass and vodka all over him.

Bits of glass cut into his skin, sticking out at odd angles while the rest fell to the floor or landed in his lap. Vodka splashed in an icy wave, making him his in pain as the alcohol-based liquid washed over his open wounds. His good eye clammed shut in an attempt to save itself the string of being splashed, but dripped down from his hair and worked its way into his eyes from the corners. A small whimper tumbled from his lips and he looked up, hearing the rustle of fabric and fearing another strike.

Violet eyes met bore into Gilbert's crimson irises, malicious laughter dancing in them as Ivan bent down and grabbed the albino's hair in a vice grip, forcing him up and into an awkward position between standing and kneeling that caused his ankles to throb in protest. Rough lips were forced upon his, and the Prussian gagged on protest, lashing out with his trembling legs as he tried to push Ivan back enough for him to aim a kick wherever he could reach; he didn't care how weak it was.

The corners of Gilbert's mouth quirked upward in a satisfied smile as he felt his knee connect with what felt like Ivan's stomach, but the joy was short-lived. The Russian retaliated immediately by flicking the wrist of his pipe-wielding arm, causing the hard metal to meet the albino's ribs with a sickening crack. Gilbert cried out in hoarse agony, gritting his teeth as he tried to swallow the pain, but Ivan had already moved again.

A gloved hand gripped the waistband of his pants and forced them down around his knees, making the Prussian shiver as the cold air hit his skin. His ribs were throbbing in a manner that made it hard to concentrate on what was going on around him, but the moment his clothes had been removed Gilbert knew what was coming and he began thrashing around weakly in a futile attempt to knock his captor back. Ivan proved once more to be too strong as a hand to the back of his neck forced him to bend over and something cold was pressed to his backside.

"G-get away from me…!"

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" The Russian's was maliciously amused as he ran the long end of his pipe down Gilbert's spine before coming to a stop at the bottom. "You're trembling too much to have done this before, da."

"I-I said… get away-!"

"But Gilbert…" Ivan smirked, "We're not done playing yet, da. Tonight's game has only just begun."

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-MATURE-CONTENT-MATURE-CONTENT-MATURE-CONTENT-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

No time was left for Gilbert to voice his protests as Ivan gave the pipe a swift jerk forward and an agonized scream filled the room. In seconds, the silverette was writhing again, each movement driving the pipe deeper than it was meant to go and making it hurt that much more. His hips trembled, the movement only seeming to full the Russian's drunken amusement further as he pushed his pipe forward and pulled back again, waiting until he could see all but the tip before shoving forward. With each thrust the Russian received a fresh shout of pain, the cries growing more and more horse as Gilbert screamed his throat raw.

The pain in the Gilbert's lower half was excruciating, each flick of Ivan's wrist feeling more like a stab as he struggled to swallow back the sobs welling in his throat. He knew better than to cry; he couldn't. Tears would only fuel the Russian's amusement and encourage him to do more than he already was. His eyes burned in furious protest, but he blinked the evidence away; he was too stubborn to cry. The screams his body refused to hold back were bad enough, and try as he might, he couldn't push them down. Pain he'd felt before on the battlefield was nothing compared to this, and the screams were all he could do to keep himself under what little control he still had.

By the time the Prussian was no longer able to shout, the pipe was coated in a thick layer of blood that gave it a heavily rusted appearance. With a bored look, Ivan threw the rod to the floor with a metallic clang, making Gilbert wince as he waited for another strike that wouldn't come. Silence fell over the room, and for a brief, shining moment, he truly thought it was over. He sighed in relief, feeling his shoulders relax slightly before a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist and tugged his body backward.

"What the fuck are you-!?"

"I said our fun wasn't done, da…"

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-MATURE-END-MATURE-END-MATURE-END-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

* * *

"You were so well behaved tonight, da…" Ivan grinned as he tugged his coat back on. "I think you deserve a reward, da."

Silence was his only answer as Gilbert stared at the floor, a blank look on his face. A sickly sweet smile tugged at the Russian's lips as he stepped forward and released the shackles on the albino's wrists with a small click, watching as the other fell to the floor in a crumpled mess.

"Tired already...?" Ivan pouted. "You're not broken already are you, da?"

Again, Gilbert didn't answer and simply curled up in the corner, tugging his thin sheet around his shoulders. Ivan tried several more times to gain his attention, but the Prussian was too exhausted to reply. His entire body was screaming in pain, and he wanted nothing more than to fall into the comforting nothingness of unconsciousness. Behind him, he heard the sound of the door being opened and shut once more, and a deathly silence fell about the room.

Tears began to gather in the corner of his crimson eyes for the second time that night. He bit his lip and buried his face in his pillow, whimpering quietly as he swallowed the thick sobs forming in his throat. "West…" he muttered quietly. "Roderich…" _I want to go back… _he thought dully, and with a final choked cry, his body finally graced him with the sympathies of passing out, leaving him with only dreams of the home he dearly wished to return to.


	4. Chapter Three

**Indi-Scarga:** I hope you weren't waiting too long for this. I'm really glad that you're enjoying the stuff with Russia behind the wall. I was really worried people weren't going to like it, but I put a lot of effort into it.

**Little-fox012:** I don't really like the image of Gilbert getting beaten myself... It wasn't all that fun to write, honestly, but I'm still glad I managed to do it well enough to get the images across. I have a lot more planned for when he's home than behind the wall, so I'm eager to get to that part of the writing myself.

**Kaimi-Flames:** A lot of people seem to want to hug Prussia right now... I'm not sure my writing style is all that amazing, but I'm glad you enjoy it.

**-x-Bashli-x-:** Don't worry, I have some China/Japan stuff planned. Or at least implied at the very least. I have the entire story planned out, so it should be going well and keep updates fairly often.

* * *

Sorry this update took so long. Chapter 4 is already in the works, so I'm really hoping this one goes well... I've gotten a lot of story alerts, and that's always encouraging to know people are reading, but I'd always like to know where I can improve, too. Maa, anyway~ Enjoy the next chapter. Reviewers get cake made by Austria and a plushie of Prussia.

**

* * *

Chapter Three**

**_October, 1976_**

**_(15 years into the wall)_**

A dull voice filled the living room as the reporter continued on in a dull voice about the same news topic he'd been talking about for the previous week. Blank sapphire eyes gazed at the screen with a blank look, not taking in any of the images offered on the upper corner of the screen. The story ended and the station took a break for commercial, but Ludwig remained perfectly still in his seat, only the movements of his chest rising and falling as he slowly inhaled through his nose.

Somewhere in the background, a loud knock rang out over the soft noises of the people onscreen advertising a product that most people would never use with broad smiles on their faces. Ludwig blinked again, but remained still. He didn't care who or what was at the door. Feliciano had always possessed the habit of letting himself in, and the German had yet to find a reason why the young brunette would suddenly stop. Anyone who was knocking on his front door these days was either there to offer sympathy or have him sign more papers that would push his country further under the control of another or send them into a deeper depression than they were already in.

Again the knock rang out, but the only reaction it received was a slight tilt of the head as Ludwig glanced in the direction of the door before he returned his gaze to the television screen where the reporter had reappeared and was continuing a story from over a week ago that Ludwig vaguely remembered the minor details off. It didn't matter, in the end. None of the current affairs in his country had mattered much to him since the wall had gone up and the letters he and Gilbert had managed to leak to one another stopped. He had no clues as to how his brother was doing, or if he was even still alive. With Ivan, almost anything was possible, and that's what scared the German the most.

The sound of the door opening and being slammed echoed loudly in the quiet house, followed shortly by the sound of light footsteps against the tilted hallway floor. As the new presence in Ludwig's house neared the living room, the footsteps stopped and were replaced by the soft pitter-pat of boots on the carpet. The sapphire eyes never left the screen and it wasn't until the intruder spoke that the German realized who had entered his home.

"Bonjour, Ludwig! Are you alive in there?" Francis leaned over the limp form, hair swinging forward as he rapped his knuckles against the German's head. His shit-eating grin fell when the other didn't even smile. "…Mon ami, come, you must get up. You shall grow fat and lazy, and then what will you do when Gilbert comes back? He will be most upset!"

Ludwig's eyes flickered up toward the Frenchman's briefly, blinking twice then shifted his gaze to the television screen once more. His mouth opened as if to reply, but no sound came out, earning a huff of frustration in response. Francis' shoulders slumped and he pulled back, shifting a plastic box in one of his hands to the other before he reached forward and grabbed Ludwig's collar, forcing the taller blond to his feet with a grunt.

"Clean yourself up, mon ami," he said, shoving the German in the direction of the downstairs bathroom. "Not even the flies want to be around you right now."

Again Francis didn't get a response, but Ludwig moved toward the bathroom as he was told, shutting the door as he disappeared inside. Shortly after, the blond heard the sounds of the water being tested and switched to the shower head. Nodding to himself, the Frenchman turned and started for the kitchen. He was confidence the other wouldn't kill himself, he cared for his brother too much to do that. _At least… as long as he clings to the hope that his brother is still alive. For both your sakes, I pray that Ivan hasn't shown to be the end of you. _

Pushing the rather depressing thought to the side, Francis made his way around the kitchen, thankful that it appeared to be the one room in the house that was still almost spotless. Several dishes sat in the sink, but they looked as if they had been used no later than the night previous, and a faint sense of relief washed over him. _It seems that Feliciano is visiting more often than I thought… _He walked over to the trashcan to dispose of a paper towel he'd used to wipe a spot on the counter and snorted as he lifted the lid. _Alfred and Arthur have been here as well. I do hope he wasn't subjected to any of their cooking… though it seems Alfred brought enough of his terrible burgers to last a week at the very least. How gross… They should know to bring much more suitable foods to a man in his time of need, like moi!_

"Of course…" Francis mumbled under his breath as he began to set the table. "I'm only here for Gilbert…" _And I wouldn't have come if he hadn't asked me to. You're quite lucky your brother has a friend as kind-hearted as myself, Ludwig!_

"Ludwiiiiig!" a cheerful voice snapped Francis out of his thoughts. "Ve, I brought more pasta for you! I—eh? You're not in the living room… Ve, ve! Is that you moving in the kitchen? I can hear…. Big brother Francis? What are you doing here?"

"Feli!" Francis cried in relief, hurrying forward to scoop the Italian into a hug. "C'est merveilleux! You're here!"

"Uwa… Are you that happy to see me?"

"Of course I am! I'm sure that Ludwig will be most pleased when he sees you as well. He's been quite down lately."

Feliciano pulled away sadly and sighed, nodding his head slowly. "Ludwig misses Gilbert very much… Ve, he's talks to me about it sometimes… but he's really quiet. He doesn't even shout at me for being lazy anymore. Will he be alright…?"

Not liking the look of distress on the younger nation's face, Francis merely smiled and nodded, running a gentle hand through Feliciano's hair. "Of course, mon ami. Ludwig will be just fine, especially now that you have arrived."

"Really…?" the brunette glanced up with a hopeful look. "Ludwig will be happy that I'm here?"

"Isn't he always?" Francis grinned and ruffled the younger's hair then made his way toward the kitchen door, waving a hand idly over his shoulder. "I really must be getting back to France. You can handle the food on the table, oui? I'm sure it will go nicely with your pasta. Just be sure he eats as much as he can. We don't need our big boy losing weight from not eating."

"Ve! I will! Bye, big brother France!"

"…Feliciano…?"

"Ludwig!" Feliciano turned on his heel and sprinted across the kitchen, throwing himself into the surprised arms of Ludwig who didn't at all seem displeased with the sudden display of affection. "Big brother Francis was just here! He left us some of his food—oh! Ve, and I brought pasta! And Lovino let me buy a cake!"

"D-did he…?" Ludwig sputtered as he was dragged toward the table and forced into a chair. "That was… ah, nice of him."

"It's chocolate! And… and…" As Feliciano fell into one of his trademark rants, a small smile graced Ludwig's lips. Even with his brother gone, the Italian had the uncanny ability of being able to calm him down when he was at his worse. No matter what he rambled about, it was something about the young brunette's voice, his presence, that made everything just a little easier to bear, and he was forever grateful for it.

Outside, a pair a sapphire eyes closed in relief as Francis pulled away from the glass pane he'd been spying through. He had no reason to stay now; Ludwig would be just fine.

* * *

Blood tricked down the side of Gilbert's face, staining his pale skin as he fought to keep consciousness. His wrists were throbbing once more from the struggle he'd put up only minutes ago. His left eye was clamped shut yet again, a gash cutting across it from his forehead down his lower cheek. A deep cut lined the side of his neck, making it painful to move his head, and the front of his uniform had been ripped open, revealing a mess of new cuts on his chest and torso, each bleeding freely.

The once pale white skin was stained pink and crimson, with mixed splotches of purple, blue, and yellow all over. A sharp pain shot up and down his side as he attempted to hold himself in a position that wouldn't add more pressure to the two ribs that had been cracked more than once in multiple spots. Shifting too much would only give him a fresh wave of pain, and he bit his lip to hold back a whimper. The door opened but he didn't dare look up, fearing it was Russia back for another round of "fun" after finishing off yet another bottle of vodka.

"Mr. Gilbert…?" a soft voice called as two pairs of feet made their way over to the crippled Prussian. "Mr. Gilbert? Are you awake?" The question was hesitant, as if the speaker were afraid of the answer he'd receive. Glancing up, Gilbert saw a familiar brunette mop of hair sag as Toris sighed in relief and glance to the small figure beside him. "He's awake, Raivis! Go tell Eduard that it's safe. Mr. Ivan won't be back for a while… but we'd better hurry."

"What…?" Gilbert rasped, frowning as Toris wasted no time in kneeling down in front of him. "What are you…?"

"Shh…" the brunette smiled kindly and produced a white box out of the folds in his uniform. He opened it wordlessly and began pulling out bandages and bottles of medicine, each boasting a label in a language the albino couldn't read. "We only have a few hours as most, but please bear with us. We're going to do the best we can."

A small 'click' sounded in Gilbert's ears and the chains holding his wrist were undone. He tipped forward, nearly crashing into the Lithuanian who was helping him, but a thin hand caught his shoulders and pushed him back into a sitting position.

"Hurry, Toris…" a quiet voice, Gilbert recognized to be Eduard muttered. "Raivis is getting the bowl from the kitchen. He'll be here in a few minutes. I'll take care of his face. You look at his wrists."

Together, the two Baltic nations set to work. Every few minutes, Gilbert would hiss quietly in pain as a particularly deep cut was cleaned, but he kept quite still, watching his make-shift medics in silence. Question after question formed themselves in his mind, but his throat was too dry and swollen to ask them. Whatever the others were doing to his cuts, it was dulling the pain, and soon, the worst of his injuries were covered in small white bandages.

The agonizing throbbing in his wrists had numbed, and a thick wrapping of white gauze protected them from the open air. His jacket bad been removed after Eduard held him down to keep him steady, and Toris applied numbing medication and stiff wrappings around his ribs.

"That should be enough for now…"

"Toris, Eduard… I-I'm back. It doesn't… l-look like Mr. Ivan is back either."

"Raivis…" Eduard nodded and walked over the smallest of the three and took the bowl that the trembling nation was holding. "Thank you. Go watch the stairs… If you see him, drop a coin or something down the stairs and we'll know to get out."

"R-right…" Raivis nodded and scurried out of the room, his small bootsteps echoing off the walls as he ran.

"Gilbert," Eduard addressed the Prussian loudly as he knelt down. "Look at me…"

Gilbert blinked slowly and looked up. The bandages on his neck made it much less painful to move, and the medication Toris had applied was working wonders.

"…What are you…?" the albino stopped, staring cross-eyed at the spoon that was being held up to his lips. A thin steam was rising off the liquid it help, indicating that whatever it was, which smelled suspiciously like chicken broth, was still warm.

"It isn't much… but I doubt your stomach can take solid foods right now," Toris explained gently. "We thought it might help with the cold. It's better than nothing, right?"

Gilbert blinked and nodded slowly, carefully opening his lips for Eduard to slip the spoon inside and empty the liquid into his mouth. Never before had something so simple tasted so wonderful, and the bowl was empty in mere minutes. His stomach gurgled pitifully, begging for more, and Toris quickly scurried away with a sad look in his blue eyes, returning shortly after with two more bowls that were emptied almost as quickly as the first.

"That's all for now…" he sighed, handing the third bowl over to Eduard, who took it and moved to wait by the door for Toris to join him. "We can't give you too much, or you'll end up sick. It's dark enough that your clothes should hide most of the bandages. We're sorry we couldn't patch up your face…"

"…It's fine…" the Prussian smiled faintly, leaning unconsciously into the hand that was threading through his hair in a feeble attempt to remove knots. "…you all could get in trouble for this… why?"

"We've been stuck with him for a very long time…" Toris muttered, staring off to the side of the room where the rusted cot had once sat. "We know what he's like… and it isn't fair how he's treating you."

"…You'd know…" Gilbert mumbled with a dry snort. "You've had to live with the bastard longer than me…" He coughed roughly, the soothing feeling the broth had given his throat starting to wear off from excessive talking.

"Yes… but… Mr. Gilbert—"

"Will you drop the damn **'**mister**'** already? …Just because my hair is white… doesn't make me old." He coughed again.

"O-oh… sorry…" the brunette cleared his throat awkwardly, regarding the Prussian with an uneasy look. "But… Gilbert, then, wouldn't… wouldn't it be easier if you just listened to him? Mr. Ivan wouldn't bother hurting you if he thought you didn't care. Fighting him is getting you hurt, and…"

"He can take all he wants from me. My Gott-damned virginity, bed, chair… he can take my clothes if he wants them, but I'll be damned before I give that bastard my pride…"

"Toris, we should be going…" Eduard said from the doorway. "He'll be back soon."

With a node, the Lithuanian stood up and started for the door, pausing halfway to glance back at Gilbert with a soft sigh. "I understand, believe me, I do… but what good with that pride do you… if you're dead?"

Before he could answer, Toris turned away from the albino and hurried through the door, muttering something in a hushed tone to Eduard who nodded. The blond Baltic crossed the room silently and bent down, carefully re-chaining Gilbert's arms with care to avoid leaving evidence that they'd been there.

The bandages proved useful and made the shackles more bearable than they were before, but nothing could have made the Prussian's head sink deeper as the only door he had to freedom was shut and locked before his eyes. He was left with nothing but the icy air of the empty room, and the sound of three pairs of footsteps with freedom he so longed for fading away.


	5. Chapter Four

**aoi-akai:** Well, when you think about it, Ludwig really needed someone, didn't he? Gilbert doesn't really have the means of getting help at all, but Ludwig does... After all, back in chapter one, Gilbert asked Francis to look after his brother, right? Even though the two don't get along, the fact that Gilbert and Francis (and Antonio!) were friends for so long would have to mean something; I wanted to play on that~

**Naomi Hansen: **Really...? There were grammar errors again? *sigh* Both my BETA's said it was good... I even have two now to avoid any missed mistakes. Maybe I should get a third...? (I do use the British spellings for some things. That wouldn't happen to be the problem at all, would it?) Ah, but don't get in trouble now. It'd feel terrible if I managed to get you yelled at...

**-x-Bashli-x-:** I actually had a lot of fun writing Ludwig's part. I very rarely see fanfics show both sides (actually, I've never seen it, personally). Its usually one or the other, and I wanted to show both in this one.

**Indi-Scarga:** Like I said before, I already have the entire story planned out, and it seems that, even when I'm in school, I'm writing the chapters in my head and I'm always so eager to hurry and get them down in text... But don't worry, Feliciano is helping poor Ludwig a lot. He's the only joy he has left, you know? What with Kiku being stuck in the hospital and his brother being locked away... Feli is probably even more precious to him now than he was before.

**Ookami of Mystery:** Uwa... Such a long and sweet review~ Thank you! I'm really glad my story is good enough that it's kept your attention, even if it's not something you normally read--that really helps my confidence as a writer. Chapter one is probably my favourite of all the ones I have written thus far, because it came out almost exactly as I had it pictured in my head (or at least as well as I could get it down in words). As for the trio, I've noticed that, in most stories with the Wall, Gilbert never seems to get any help or comfort--unless it's pity/desperate comfort between himself and Elizabeta, or something (which is odd, technically, Hungary worked as a "hole" in the Iron Curtain and helped people slip through for the longest time). As for the errors... I'm really sorry about that. As I mentioned above, I have two betas looking at the story, and the both went through and did some editing, but from what they said to me, I hadn't had many mistakes to fix... I guess it's almost impossible to catch them all, but it's good to know they weren't bad enough to turn you away from the story. Thanks for the review, and again, I'm super glad I'm good enough to earn one. X3

**emma:** That's a pretty name... Ah, but thanks for the review. I'm a bit of a sucker for angst myself, but even with that being said, this is likely the darkest thing I've ever written. Originally, a Persona story of mine was (kinda?) dark... but this is just a whole new style of writing and even I'm still trying to figure out how to write such horrible things (that rape scene was terrible... I really hope I don't have to write another--my first and last...) Ah, but I did have a lot of fun with Ludwig's side (as cruel as that sounds).

**LonelyStorm:** Oh, wow... A reviewer all the way from Germany? That's so cool~ I really hope to visit the country some day (I want to go to Austria, too...). Ah, don't worry. Your English is amazing for not being your first language (for that matter, I'd like to learn German better, too...) You needn't worry, though. Gilbert only has a few more (I think two or three, including this one) stuck with Russia, and when we move to post-Wall events. Unfortunately, Roderich won't come into the story again until after the wall is down... but that won't take long, I promise! Most of the story is based on Gilbert and Roderich (and some Ludwig) AFTER the wall.

**Chignon:** I'm not so sure it was courage as much as disappointment in myself. I really didn't like how quickly I was moving in the other one, or the way I'd started. This one is going MUCH better for me, and I'm having a LOT more fun writing it. I'm really glad you think this one is better as far as quality and realism, because that is what I was hoping to fix and I'm _so_ glad it worked out that way.

**Little-fox012:** I love the Baltics, too; they just don't get enough love. Although, honestly, I think it was because of the last cosplay meet I went to that I favoured Lithuania in this one. There was just the nicest girl ever there as Liet and we started calling each other 'Iron Curtain Buddy' and from that stemmed the idea for this entire chapter--so merits to her, ja? And I would have felt like an ass if I left them BOTH completely alone. I mean, Gilbert is sort of getting the short-end of the stick, but better than nothing.

**Isilme Dragons:** It'll get happier, don't worry. ...Eventually. Maybe. I hope? It will! ...Though I haven't decided on the "bad" or "good" ending for this story, yet.

**Blue Element:** Roderich fan, eh? I am as well (though Gilbert is my favourite by far~) Sadly, Roderich won't be coming in until the chapter after enxt, but once he comes back in, he won't be leaving.

* * *

Sorry that this took so long, everyone. I sort of got ahead of myself in the whole "writing" bit that I forgot to upload... Again. A friend beta'd this chapter for me, but I'm really looking for an official one who wouldn't mind helping out. I have up to chapter seven written as of right now, and I'd love to get all of those beta'd so I can start uploading a little faster (all the good stuff is coming up soon!)

Also! Special shout-out to _**Laelia Sarai**_ who I'm totally not talking to on IM right now (I'm not a creeper! REALLY!) Now, stop teasing me with cake cookies and read. (And bring some to the meeting in 18 days~) :3 Thanks for reading my weird-ass stories.

**

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Chapter Four**

**_April, 1986 _**

**_(25 years into the wall)_**

Gilbert's blank crimson eyes stared blankly at the floor, his body held up only by the shackles still clamped tightly around his wrists. His uniform, once proud and clean, hung off his figure like a skin that was three sizes too large. The fabric was torn and tattered, ripped along the seams with small gashes throughout, where the cloth had been snagged or torn from the various instruments Ivan had brought down into the basement. Sharp and overly defined bones were easily visible against the pale skin his clothes were unable to hide, and his once glorious silver locks were stained a faint hue of pink, matted and caked together in unnatural clumps from his own blood.

The door creaked loudly as it was pushed open, but the Prussian didn't bother raising his gaze. He'd long since lost hope of Ivan's games coming to an end, and he instead took to counting the days, just to see how long he could manage to survive. Through the Baltic nations taking turns sneaking into the dungeon-like room he was kept in, he'd managed to down enough of various soups and broths to keep his body alive and healthy enough to remain conscious. However, with each visit from his Russian captor, his will to live through his current ordeal would disparate a little more.

Several years previous, the Prussian had come to accept that his dreams of the shining sun back in his home and the smiling faces of his brother and friends were simply that; dreams. No longer did they renew his hope or will to fight after night had fallen; Ivan had managed to take those from him too. The Russian would often slip into Gilbert's holding cell at night and manipulate the albino's already fragile mind. It was easy for the other to use the simplest of mind tricks and mental torture to make the Prussian believe he was back home, only to be slapped with the harsh reality that he was chained in a room with no hope left.

A soft hand pressed itself against Gilbert's cheek, urging the albino to look up as the entrant to the room knelt in front of him. Grey-violet eyes moved over his figure, slowly accessing his condition before a soft sigh escaped pale lips and a rustle of fabric was hear before the rattling of chains. "He'll be out for a while... Katyusha is going to try and keep him away for the rest of the day."

Seconds later, Gilbert's arms were released from their hold and he tumbled forward, unable to catch himself after the sudden release from the metallic chains. Slender arms quickly wrapped around his waist, stopping his fall before he could hit the floor. Instinctively, the Prussian began to struggle, twitching and writhing under his captors grasp.

"Gilbert… calm down."

Pausing, the albino ceased his struggles and his entire body went completely still for several seconds, the frantic struggles causing him to pant from his weakened condition. The soft scent of peppermint and oakwood wafted toward his nose, and almost immediately the Prussian felt his muscles relax as he went limp against the person holding him. His lips moved wordlessly, his throat too swollen and damaged to make much noise beyond a soft grunt or whimper, but still he fought to choke out the name of his visitor.

"N-Natalia…"

"Hush," the female nation scolded, easing Gilbert into a comfortable sitting position. Reaching into her dress, she produced a first-aid kit that was much more elaborate than any of the ones he'd seem Toris bring down before and opened it, pulling out the supplies she needed one by one. "Don't talk if it hurts…"

The silverette opened his mouth to try and speak again, but a soft glare in his direction dissolved whatever words he'd been trying to work up and he kept silent. A small nod was his only response as Natalia leaned forward and set to work, removing the soiled bandages covering his body and cleaning the wounds under them, before pulling out fresh rolls of gauze and dressing them again. Her fingers worked nimbly and quickly, switching the roll from hand to hand as she needed it without much pause in her work.

The surprise that would have come with the female nation's sudden visit had faded several months ago when the visits started. It wasn't the first time she'd snuck downstairs to tend to his wounds as she did now, and despite the unusually gentle gesture from the normally quite violent blonde, they were not at all unwelcome. Natalia, though a bit rough, seemed to know exactly what to do to treat the wounds inflicted by her brother, and it was because of her that the Prussian was still able to hold himself in a sitting position without assistance and the only reason none of his wounds had managed to get infected in recent years.

"We can head upstairs now…" she muttered softly, wrapping a thick fleece blanket she'd brought with her around the Prussian's shoulders. "There is a wheelchair for you at the top of the stairs."

Nodding silently, Gilbert waited for Natalia to pick up the jacket and shirt she'd removed from him in order to clean his wounds and hang them over her arm. One of her slender arms snaked itself around his waist and he allowed himself to be pulled upward without much difficulty. The Belarusian had always been a strong girl, but the albino was unnaturally light from the lack of food he'd received in previous years, making it easier for him to lift him than it should have been.

Once situated, the two slowly made their way out the open door of the room. The stairs took nearly ten minutes for them to scale up completely, but Natalia was surprisingly patient with the other's slow movements. Her grip on Gilbert never changed, tight enough to keep him from falling, but loose enough to avoid causing him pain. Each step was taken one at a time and a small break was taken each time they reached one of the miniature landings before they would continue up the next set of five.

When they reached the top, as promised, a padded wheelchair was waiting for Gilbert to sit in. Natalia wasted no time in easing him down onto the pillowed cushions and placed his folded clothes on his lap before moving behind him and grabbing the chair's handles. It was much easier for them both to move throughout the house this way, and it eliminated the chance of either of them losing balance and breaking one of the various statues, ornaments, and decorations littered about Ivan's castle-like house.

The door that lead into the backyard was already opened when they reached it, and Natalia pushed Gilbert out onto the porch without comment, pulling the barrier closed behind her. To their left was a patio table, the top already laden with several bowls of the broth that was often snuck to the albino under Ivan's radar. Only one chair sat at the table, leaving an open space for the wheelchair that Gilbert was quickly pushed up to.

_"_Jak mayeciesia? Can you use your arms?" Natalia asked, stepping around to peer at the Prussian's face. "I need to fix your clothes before we go back downstairs, but…"

Shaking his head, Gilbert slowly reached for one of the spoons, wrapping his bony fingers around the thin metal body and offered Natalia a faint grin. The swelling in his wrists had died down almost completely since the blonde had started coming to visit him, and it made their private meetings like this one much easier for him to function. The albino didn't know how or when he'd be able to properly thank her, but it didn't seem important to either of them; not right now.

Seeing that he was able to feed himself, Natalia smiled faintly and nodded. "Smachna yesci."

As he started spooning the broth into his mouth slowly, Natalia took the open chair at his right and began fishing around in her pockets. A small noise of triumph tumbled from her lips as she produced white plastic box which she set on the table. When she opened the top, the silverette spotted several small needles, a piece of cardboard with several different coloured threads wrapped around it, and a small pair of scissors.

"It shouldn't take me too long to patch these up…" Natalia said as she began threading one of the needs with black thread. "Your tie is still in my room, but we should keep it there. Big brother doesn't need anything else to grab when he's downstairs with you, tak?"

"…Ja." Gilbert mumbled in a raspy tone. "D-danke…"

"Don't thank me," she muttered quietly. "I'm helping you because you don't deserve what he's doing to you. I love my brother, and I've supported him in everything he's done up until now, but this... this isn't right. I understand that you're under his control for Ludwig's sake, but he shouldn't treat you the way he does." The female nation paused, then added quietly, "…I don't like how much time he spends with you, either. He could be spending it with _me._"

If he had heard Natalia say it almost twenty years ago, Gilbert was sure he would have laughed. Anyone who was actually _jealous_ of the attention he'd been given for the past years was absurd. He'd have given anything to escape Ivan's obsession; to be free of his abuse and hatred. Alas, laughter was a luxury he'd lost long ago. What used to make him smile was nothing more than a faraway dream he couldn't reach anymore, even in his sleep, and the simple pleasures would pass by him with little to no reaction to them at all.

"I'm finished…" the female nation suddenly announced, holding Gilbert's jacket out in front of her. "It's not perfect, but better than it was before."

* * *

A pleasant smell filled Ludwig's kitchen as the sound of kitchen utensils being used echoed off the walls. Francis' boisterous voice was all but shouting as he moved about the room, singing while cooking happily as Ludwig watched him from his place at the table. Yesterday, it had been Alfred and Arthur fighting each other in the kitchen as they put together something that the German could have only described as repulsive, but the meal managed to slip down his throat without trouble and even tasted halfway decent.

"Come, mon ami! Sing with me! It is no fun on one's own, oui?"

Ludwig raised a skeptical blond eyebrow and said nothing in response, earning a pout from the Frenchman who poked him sharply in the side. "You are even more boring than before without your brother around… and you were quite boring to begin with. Stop sitting around like a lump or you will start to smell again. If Gilbert could see you now, he would be so disappointed in you! The wall will not remain forever. Alfred and Arthur are working to make sure that it comes down; and your own people as well! Show your pride as a country!"

Once more, Ludwig didn't respond in words, but the look on his face morphed into an annoyed glare that was enough to satisfy the Frenchman and turn him back to the stove. Despite how little progress they had made, the German _was_ doing better. If not in speech, he'd respond with looks or some form of physical action indicating he'd heard what was being said. The only person that the allies noticed Ludwig would respond to each time an effort was made was Feliciano, and they quickly took advantage of that.

Happily, the young Italian nation was more than willing to do anything the other nations told him on the word that it would help his friend, and more than once one of the allied countries had walked in on the two in a questionable position that left Feliciano with a confused smile as Ludwig attempted to word through quiet and hoarse sputters about how it wasn't nearly as suggestive as it looked. But the protests would die almost as quickly as they started and the Germanic nation would fall back into his depressive state.

"Felici should be coming over for a visit soon. He seemed quite eager to see you—and you are eager to see him as well, oui?"

Ludwig frowned and glanced at Francis, his eyebrow rising skeptically once more. "Why would I be happy about that? I don't need any more pasta in my refrigerator, and he never cleans the kitchen."

"Quelle surprise, neither do you." Francis counted, giving the German a knowing smirk as he threw his arms out in a dramatic gesture that nearly sent the pot on the stove tumbling to the floor. "You cannot lie to me about how you feel, Ludwig! I am the country of romance, after all. I see the loving sparkle in your eyes when you look on our young Italian friend—it is the fire of passion! Love! He is your—"

"Please stop ranting about your illusions before you burn my house down…"

"Au contraire! It would be a fire of love, oui? The hot burning flames of your undying—"

"The pot is boiling over."

"Oh! Merde!" Francis swore loudly and dived back toward the stove, quickly saving his "beautiful" cuisine as a loud doorbell rang throughout the house.

With a sigh, Ludwig shook his head and stood up, making his way to the front door to let in the Italian he knew to be there. The moment he opened the door he was greeted by a loud cry and something solid crashing into his chest. Noodle-like arms wrapped themselves tightly around his waist and a muffled 've ve' followed by a rant in rapid Italian about pasta and something that Romano had done to Spain including tomatoes and a kitten. The words themselves blended together in a mix of things he couldn't quite understand, but he was all the more grateful for the other's presence.

"And, and then, Antonio said that-!" Before Feliciano could finish his jumbled sentence, Ludwig suddenly moved forward, throwing his arms around the small Italian and pulled him against his chest. His nose buried itself in the young brunette's hair; the scent of pasta being cooked in a warm kitchen, fresh grass, and the faintest hint of gelato and paint filling his senses. Everything about the young Italian seemed to comfort him more than usual since the wall went up. He'd long since stopped caring about the bizarre habits of Feliciano's he'd once considered annoying were suddenly pleasant gestures he didn't know what he'd do without.

"Felicano…" he murmured quietly, rubbing his cheek gently against the velvety strands of brown hair. "Thank you for coming."

"Ve…" Feliciano cooed and, for once, instead of one of his normally outlandish responses, he simply slipped his arms around Ludwig's neck and tugged himself closer. The method of greeting had become something of habit between the two whenever the Italian came over, be it at the front door or elsewhere in the house, they both seemed to know and understand where the comfort was wanted and could be found. "Of course! Ludwig is the most important to me, ve… I don't like it when you're sad."

"You've managed to master the habit of making it hard to be sad when you're around. Why couldn't you have put as much effort into your training as you do cheering me up?"

"Cheering you up doesn't involve scary things!" Feliciano said brightly. "There are no bombs or war… and the English aren't there to invade me, or—mmn?" The rest of his sentence was cut off as Ludwig cupped the Italian's chin and pressed their lips together gently. It wasn't like him to make the first move for such displays of affection, especially when they weren't alone, but almost a week had passed since the two had last seen each other.

For a nation, such a short amount of time would seem like almost nothing, but without his brother around and only the empty silence of his house to keep him company; days started feeling like weeks, and sometimes even months, by themselves. Feliciano was the only one who was able to change that for him. The Italian made time move again, he brought life and sound into his graveyard of a home, and, even with the dreary atmosphere, managed to make the German's life just a little brighter, regardless for how long or brief that time was.

"Ah, young love!" Francis said happily as he walked into the living room. A wide smile graced his face as he placed his hands on his hips and walked forward, swaying from right to left as he went. "C'est magnifique, oui?"

"Uwaa! Big brother Francis is here, too?"

"But of course, Felici! Who else would be able to cook such wonderful smelling food? Now, both of you, in the kitchen, let us eat."

Feliciano let out a small cry of delight and darted into the kitchen, flailing about happily as he looked at all the food in the room. The sound of plates and bowls being moved around and filled echoed into the living room, and a faint look of amusement danced in Ludwig's eyes.

"We should not leave our young Italian friend alone. There is quite a bit of food in there and it would be a pity for him to lose such a cute figure—not that my food is fattening." He started to follow after the brunette, but was stopped as Ludwig grabbed his shoulder, slender blond eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Why are you doing this? Helping me?"

Francis paused just outside kitchen, sighing loudly as he glanced over his shoulder. "Because I owe it to your brother… I owe it to Gilbert, my friend for more years than your country has existed."

* * *

"I'm sorry for chaining you up again," Natalia murmured as she eased Gilbert back down into a kneeling position. His knees throbbed in protest at having to carry the weight of his body once more. He winced and shook his head, offering the female nation a few quick blinks, the closest he could manage to a smile, in return. "Ivan shouldn't be back until late tonight, I don't think he's going to bother you today."

Pushing herself up off the ground, the blonde straightened her skirt and gave the Prussian before her another once-over. His wounds were bandaged to the best of her ability, and she'd managed to repair his clothes enough so that the holes allowing in more cold air than would no longer be a problem. Crimson eyes raised themselves to meet her gray-sapphire hues, and pale lips repeated the same question she'd been asked earlier silently.

_"Why…?"_

"I told you. I don't agree with what my brother is doing. You've done nothing to deserve it. I love my brother, I do… and I hate when someone else takes him away from me, but…" she trailed off, pausing as she grabbed the handle of the door. "What he's doing is wrong, and I can't support him in tormenting another nation for the reasons he has. You lost the war… and the only reason you're here… is to protect your brother, right?" She turned, a soft smile gracing her lips as she looked at Gilbert. "I suppose you could say I… understand what it feels like; the want to do anything for a sibling you love. …Good luck, Gilbert."


	6. Chapter Five

Late update is late! I'm sorry, everyone! I've been distracted with... well, everything, really. Bweh. It just hit me this weekend that I have about 30 school days left before I graduate high school and I'm having one of those weird "holy shit" moments where I'm not sure how to handle it. I mean, I'm not nervous, it's just... very strange for me to think about. I've gotten so used to knowing I had "x many years" left and now that I've reached my last... I dunno. It's bizarre. Anyway, sorry for making you all wait so long and I'm VERY pleased that no one seemed to be expecting the Belarus twist. Honestly, I've never seen a fanficwhere the poor girl wasn't shown as an insane-psycho woman and I really think she needs more credit. ...Then again, maybe I'm just looking at the wrong stories.

* * *

**Noile:** First off, thank you for reviewing. Getting your review reminded me that I had yet to update this story and finally got me around to doing it. I'm glad you enjoyed what I did with Natalia and I do agree that she is far too often shown as 'the crazy woman'. I really enjoyed giving her character depth in that chapter and she was probably my favourite person to write who isn't Gilbert or Roderich thus far in the story (though I was having some fun with Switzerland at one point in my notes.) You didn't babble at all in your review, I assure you, and I'm rather pleased with the message you seem to be getting from it. Honestly, I'm not sure what sort of theme or message I did have intended for this one, but I do like yours. As for the Berlin wall, it was up for twenty-eight years and now it came down... well, it's somewhat complicated. I'd suggest looking over the wikipedia page as it would give a much better explanation than I could.

**Alexis:** More reviews are always nice, and I thank you for leaving one. Your reaction does give me confidence that I'm still able to pull off a half-decent plot-twist in my stories. Hopefully I'll continue to write something worth your time.

**Naomi Hansen:** Hello again, you. Natalia was rather kind to Gilbert, but I could see it happening. While she is Ivan-obsessed to the point of concern and, well, being rather creepy, I couldn't see her actually enjoying the pain of another without a valid reason. She is a sister with a brother she cares about, and like she said herself, could understand what Gilbert is doing for Ludwig's sake. It's a bizarre sort of connection, but a liable one, don't you think?

**-x-Bashli-x-:** I do believe that Natalia was my star of the last chapter. So many people are commenting on her. -chuckles- I'm glad you enjoyed the change in her character.

**CrystalLotus98:** I'm somewhat surprised myself. My Heart's Musician was more fluff-based, while this one I actually feel as if I'm thinking, "How can I make this more depressing yet awesome at the same time?" It makes me feel a bit like a sadist, but it's good to know I made the change in a likable way. Enjoy that Gilbo plushie. -grin-

**Little-fox012: **More for Natalia yet again. -chuckle- I was nervous about how I used her in the last chapter, but it's good to know people accepted what I did. She's still quite Ivan-obsessed, I assure you, but I plan to play on both sides of her personality in this story should I get the chance. Ludwig has been getting a lot of love as well, and I'm glad people like yourself are pleased with his bizarre amount of comfort (from namely Francis) that has been going on. Also; don't worry. Roderich will be back soon!

**aoi-akai:** Of course I replied to your other comment. I try to make it a point and reply to all the comments I received for the previous chapter upon posting the new one. That's polite, isn't it? And I love reading what everyone has to say; it really works as motivation for me to keep writing. Linkin Park seems a good band to be listening to while reading this, and I agree that "Numb" seemed to be fitting for what was going on. Pride is often something that gets in the way of many people, and it can really damage us, which is why I had Toris say what he did. Pride really isn't worth anything if one is dead.

**

* * *

Chapter Five**

_**(November 8th, 1989)**_

A thin, frail hand pressed itself against the cold surface of the Berlin Wall. It trembled slightly, the arm attached to it weak and near useless, having lost most of its once proud strength long ago. Sorrowful crimson eyes stared at the hand, noting how much smaller it looked compared to the vast concrete surface it was pressed against.

Sighing softly, Gilbert stepped back slowly, his gaze lowering to the ground. He had come countless times to visit this wall, only to futilely push against it in the vain hope that it would crumble beneath his weak grip. His seemingly undying iron-will had evaporated years ago and the cocky 'holier-than-thou' attitude was completely gone, buried so deeply in his mind that even he could barely remember it, let alone reach it.

A bell began to ring in the distance, making the Prussian shudder. That wasn't a good sign. He should have gone back to the mansion hours ago. Ivan was going to be furious; he wasn't supposed to be out here at all. He'd been lucky enough to find a means of slipping out and into the open air for the first time in months, but as he turned away from the wall it suddenly didn't seem worth all the trouble he'd gone through to do it. His body was already screaming in protest from being used too much for the day, only sheer will-power keeping him conscious and on his feet.

_Heh_, the albino chuckled weakly, slowly making his way back down the path that would lead him to the city and, eventually, Ivan's house. _I'm so fucked. West… I hope you're doing better than me. They sure as hell better be taking care of you over there, because I swear to Gott if you're feeling even a fraction of what I'm going through… I'll… I'll…_

* * *

"You're late…" the voice made Gilbert wince. His back was to the main foyer, hand still resting on the door handle, but he didn't need to turn around to know who it was. He lowered his hand, simply letting it fall limply to his side. Maybe if he looked ashamed he might be 'forgiven'.

He almost laughed as he felt a thick-gloved hand clasp his shoulder. Of course he wouldn't have been let off so easily; he never had, after all. Ivan knew how upset the people of East Germany were getting, and he could tell his grip on the albino wouldn't last much longer. He was making the most of the time that he still had control over Gilbert's land, and there was nothing the Prussian could do about it.

"I thought I told you going out was forbidden..." Ivan muttered, his hand tightening its grip on Gilbert's shoulder. "How did you manage to sneak out of your room, da? You didn't break the door again, did you, da? I'd hate to have to punish you for breaking another door… Was it Raivis again? Did he let you out, da?"

_Yes_, the Prussian thought silently, not daring to speak out loud. In truth, the young Baltic had indirectly been responsible for his escape. The albino had swiped the keys from the brunette's belt during his mealtime – if one could call it that. The meal was usually small, yet quite satisfying if Eduard or Toris had prepared it. Unfortunately, it was rare for him to eat the whole thing, let alone keep it down, but he wasn't going to confess to the truth. He didn't wish to get Raivis in trouble. Despite Ivan's orders to keep away from the Prussian unless necessary, all of the Baltic nations had been good to him, sneaking down into the basement at least once a week to feed him or dress and clean his wounds.

"Are you going to answer me, da? Or do I have to persuade you?"

Gilbert laughed harshly, finally turning around and look the Russian in the eyes. "Does it matter?" he asked in a low tone, smirking weakly. "No matter what answer I give you, it won't change anything. The curiosity can eat your mind away for all I care. I'm not telling you a damned thing, you fucking russki."

Gilbert barely had time to fully register what he'd just said before a fist connected with his jaw, knocking him backward and causing his head to slam into the door with a loud crack. His vision blurred and small lights danced before his eyes as he legs buckled beneath him; he'd barely been able to hold himself up as it was. Tears gathered in his crimson orbs by reflex, but the pain felt dull compared to all he'd been through over the past twenty-eight years.

"What did I tell you about talking back?"

Laughing, the albino shook his head slowly, fixing Ivan with a half-hearted glare. "I'll say whatever the hell I please," he spat. The quiet and hoarse tone of his voice was quickly melting back into a barely audible whisper and speaking took away from his strength, but he didn't care. A faint smirk of satisfaction worked its way onto his face as the blood that had filled his mouth moments ago splattered against Ivan's scarf. He may have been near his breaking point, but he still had small scraps of his pride left and he'd be damned before he allowed the Russian to know just how far under his skin he'd managed to get.

"That won't do…" Ivan muttered with a sickly sweet smile. "You're going to have to stay in your room for the rest of the night now. I was going to invite you to supper, too. Your people are getting restless, and the wall won't be able to stay up for much longer. It's too bad."

Dread swam in the pit of Gilbert's stomach as he felt Ivan grab his tie in a vice-like grip and jerk him forward. Lips were forced on his and he nearly gagged; the taste of vodka was overwhelming. As his eyes shifted downward, he noticed a bottle of the repulsive clear liquid in the Russian's hand. That meant Ivan had been drinking again, that he was drunk, and that… that…

Fear quickly replaced the disgust and Gilbert tried to pull away, but Ivan was too strong. His body could barely hold him up, giving the albino no hope for escaping the fate he knew would soon come. Things were always worse when the Russian was drunk; he could tell by the sadistic look in the violet eyes staring down at him, along with the all-too-sweet smirk, that tonight would likely be the worst in the near thirty years he'd been stuck there.

"Let's go, shall we, da?"

With a small whimper, the Prussian felt himself being dragged forward. He didn't bother to fight back, he knew it was useless. He could only pray that, by the end of the night, he'd be able to open his eyes again.

* * *

_**(November 9th, 1989)**_

A door opened somewhere in front of Gilbert, closing again shortly after, followed by the sound of soft footsteps. A single crimson eye opened halfway, the other too bloodied from the broken vodka bottle somewhere to his left being smashed over his face. His vision blurred in and out of focus, but it stayed clear just long enough for him to make out the small silhouette of Raivis and another taller figure who was kneeling in front of him.

"Mr. Gilbert…? Mr. Gilbert, are you awake?"

Gilbert could only blink his working eye in response and hope that there was enough light in the basement room for the two Baltic nations to see.

"Toris… Please sit him up. We need to hurry. Mr. Ivan will be angry if he finds us down here, and we need to stop the bleeding."

"There's so much blood…" Toris muttered, moving forward to ease the Prussian into the tallest sitting position he could manage without causing the albino any harm. "What did he do to him this time?"

"I don't know," Raivis sighed quietly, digging around in the large box he'd brought down with him for bandages. "Mr. Ivan was drinking more than usual tonight; I don't even want to think about it. He was down here for a long time..."

Toris didn't respond and simply readjusted his grip before taking the moist cloth that Raivis offered him, dabbing lightly at Gilbert's damaged eye and checking the skin for glass.

"Do you think he'll make it through the night?" the younger nation asked quietly, concern bordering on fear in his tone.

"I don't know. I just… don't know."

That was all Gilbert could remember before he fainted, welcoming the sweet darkness of unconsciousness that was his only escape from the agonizing pain he felt throughout his body.

* * *

"…ert… ilbert… Mr. Gilbert! Please wake up!"

A hand on Gilbert's right shoulder shook him lightly, pulling him out of the realm of sleep. He groaned softly, feeling the pain from the previous night slowly seeping back over him as consciousness returned. He vaguely registered something holding his left arm in place, but was too tired to fully comprehend what was going on. _Shit. No… no more. Leave me alone, you Russian bastard. Haven't you satisfied your inner sadist, yet?_

"N-no…" the albino muttered in a raspy tone and pulled weakly against the hand that was holding him. "N-no more. Get away from me…"

"Mr. Gilbert?"

Gilbert blinked, frowning slightly as he realized he could open only one of his eyes. Something soft and thick was pressed over the other, held down with what felt like tape. His eye moved around the surrounding area slowly as he tried to figure out where he was. His gaze shifted to the right as a hand touched his shoulder again and he turned his neck slowly. Raivis was looking up at him with wide eyes and trembling as if expecting the Prussian to suddenly lash out at him. Blinking, Gilbert raised an eyebrow as high as he could in silent question; speaking hurt too much to be vocal more than necessary.

"Mr. Gilbert… we've arrived at the wall. Eduard and Toris are outside the truck. Mr. Ivan doesn't know we're helping you, but a rebellion started earlier this morning... We can escort you to the limits of the border, but once you're in West Germany, we can't help you anymore."

"…Why?" Gilbert asked, wincing as each word felt like a dagger in his throat. "Why… are you all helping me?"

Raivis smiled slightly and stood up, pulling Gilbert to his feet and allowing the older nation to use him as a crutch as he helped him out of the medical truck they'd been traveling in. "We've been with Mr. Ivan for a while and we know what he's like. The way he treated you… it wasn't fair. He shouldn't have taken his dislike for the war out on you just because you're Ludwig's brother. But… because he was so focused on you… well…."

"He left you alone…" Gilbert finished quietly with a sad smile. "Yeah, I hoped so. No one deserves… to go through all that… shit he did…"

"We wanted to help you," Toris insisted as he walked over to the pair. "You came over here to protect your brother, right?"

"That's quite noble," Eduard added with a small nod, motioning for several of the very put-out looking guards to step aside and allow Gilbert to pass. "You could have stayed with Ludwig, as your nation, forgive me, no longer exists. Yet you agreed to come here on the terms that he wouldn't harm your brother…"

Gilbert smiled weakly, stumbling slightly as Toris suddenly stopped, looking nervous. "This is as far as we're allowed to go," the brunette muttered. "We have a few things to take care of back at the house. We'd join you if we could, but…"

"It's… fine," the albino said quietly, pulling his arm from the other's shoulders. "I can… get to West on my own from here. You three… hurry back. That bastard already treats you like dirt, you don't want to piss him off. Honestly, I'm surprised you're not all running for it right now."

Beside him, Toris made a small noise, looking torn between laughter and denying what the Prussian had said. "Good luck, Mr. Gilbert," he smiled kindly. "Hopefully your brother is waiting for you just ahead. I… I hope we'll be able to see each other again soon."

"Goodbye, Mr. Gilbert!" Raivis piped up, wincing as Gilbert raised his right arm to ruffle his hair lightly.

"The best of luck to you, Mr. Gilbert," Eduard said, allowing himself a small smile, before moving to stand beside Toris.

"…Thanks for all your help," the albino muttered. "I… I owe you all big time. Thank you."

* * *

Ludwig watched as families and friends were reunited with one another, wide smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes. His shoulders slumped, his own eyes shining with unshed tears as he desperately looked around for the brother he couldn't find. _Where is he? Ost…_

A large crowd moved forward, momentarily blocking Ludwig's view of the gap in the wall where most people seemed to be streaming out of, then broke apart. The moment they did, the German nearly collapsed from shock. There was Gilbert, his beloved brother. He could tell easily from the other's face, and yet…

Gilbert was standing with his back against the wall, his visible eye shut. The left was covered in a thick white bandage with faint crimson stains. On his right cheek was another bandage, not as thick as the one on his eye, but still covering a good portion of his face. Around his neck was a long strip of gauze, completely covering the skin above the collar of his shirt, reaching below the dark fabric. His left arm was covered in a cast from wrist to elbow, supported limply in a makeshift sling, while his right was covered in bandages that started at the tips of his fingers and wrapped upward around the wrist, disappearing under his sleeve.

The once proud Prussian blue uniform Gilbert wore hung off his figure so loosely that it looked as if the clothes had originally been Ludwig's, causing the already weak and frail albino's body look smaller. The material was heavily worn, sloppy stitches fixing the multiple tears, dried patches of blood mixed with dirt all over.

"O-Ost…" he muttered, stumbling forward in a daze toward his brother. The visible crimson eye snapped open in recognition to the nickname he hadn't heard in years. "Mein Gott…"

"H-hey, West…" Gilbert muttered in a voice so soft Ludwig wouldn't have believed it was his brother if the face hadn't come with it. The man in front of him was broken and lost, a mere shell of the brother he once knew. Part of him wanted to believe that this wasn't the Prussian at all, that it was a hoax and the real Gilbert was waiting behind a rock somewhere, laughing at his brother's horrified reaction to some citizen he'd tricked into posing as him.

Ludwig stepped forward hesitantly, slowly extending one of his hands toward the albino, as if expecting him to suddenly evaporate like an illusion created by the desperate hope to see his precious brother again. "G-Gilbert? You… are you really…?"

Gilbert choked lightly on his broken laughter and nodded slowly. "I'm really here… West."

That was all it took to break the spell that had fallen over them. Ludwig's movements were too fast for Gilbert's exhausted and tortured mind to comprehend. The blond had moved forward, pulling him into a warm and gentle hug that felt oddly foreign to the albino. The thought made him sad; his brother's arms, arms that had held him so many times with the warmth that only family could bring felt so strange to him after all this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a panicked voice began whimpering and pleading for nothing to happen, half expecting Ludwig to fade into Ivan and for the entire event to have just been a dream. Everything that held any joy or warmth to it had felt like an illusion for so long the Prussian didn't know what to believe was real or fake.

Gilbert chuckled weakly and snuggled closer to Ludwig's warm chest, the faint sound of his brother's heartbeat echoing in his ears. "You're not crying, are you, West…? Heh… Don't act like… such a baby… You're German-made, act like it. I-I've had worse." It was a lie and they both knew it, but it was all the albino could do to keep them both from breaking down completely. He buried his head into Ludwig's shoulder, his uninjured eye stinging painfully as the tears he'd been trying to hold back broke his self-built dam and slid down his cheek in a silent river.

"Ost…" Ludwig choked, running a gloved hand through Gilbert's hair, a soft self-reassurance that they were both really there. All the feelings he'd been bottling up for almost thirty years had formed into a raging storm in the German's mind, making it hard for him to form proper sentences. Countless dreams of the Prussian returning home had gone just like this, only for his alarm to sound before they could return home, leaving him with the cold emptiness of a silent house. "You're safe now; you're home. I'm going to take care of you and…"

"Home…" It was a word Gilbert didn't think he'd ever be able to use properly again aside from half-hearted wishes at shooting stars he couldn't see. "Ahaha… it's good to be home, Lud…wig…" The Prussian's voice faded slowly as his body suddenly went limp against his brother's chest.

"Ost…?" Ludwig frowned, looking down at the top of Gilbert's head. "Gil…?" No response. "Gilbert!" The blonde shifted his hold on the albino but before he could get a better grip, the Prussian had slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap.

The normally creamy white skin was deathly pale and his bright, cocky expression was replaced with something that looked more like it belonged to someone on their death bed, but the Prussian's face was the least of Ludwig's worries. Blood was blossoming across the dark fabric of Gilbert's uniform, blooming like misshapen crimson flowers, staining it and the ground around him with rapidly.

"Gilbert!?" Ludwig dropped to his knees, eyes wide and panicked as he scrambled forward and eased Gilbert onto his back. "No! Gilbert! Gilbert!" Ripping off his coat, Ludwig pressed it to the albino's chest; he didn't trust his trembling hands to undo the navy blue uniform and look for the source. Several curses in his native tongue were muttered in a choked tone under this breath as he noticed how labored Gilbert's breathing had suddenly become and a sharp feeling of fear began to form and claw violently as his chest.

"Ost! Please… Not now, not like this! Gilbert, open your eyes, I—YOU!" Ludwig turned, glaring at a nearby officer he'd brought with him on the chance that a riot started. "Get the best doctor you can find to my house, immediately!"

"S-sir?"

"NOW!" Ludwig roared, his tone daring the man to argue him.

"R-right away, sir!"

His attention immediately fell back to Gilbert, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. "Gilbert, Ost, please…" he choked, grasping the Prussian's good hand tightly in his. "N-not like this. Not right after you've come back. E-everyone has been waiting for you—everyone! F-Feliciano wanted to come, but he's waiting back at the house with your little birds… Y-you can't leave me alone with them. You know I'm terrible with any animal that isn't a dog…" Ludwig choked, his voice shaking heavily with sobs as tears streamed down his face; he didn't give a damn about "German Pride" anymore. He'd give up every ounce of pride he had if Gilbert would just wake up. "Ost… please…_ Don't leave me…"_


	7. Chapter Six

Aiyaa.... Sorry this chapter took so long. My Beta had finals and I really didn't want to nag her about it, so I asked someone else to do it for this chapter and I just got it back all of ten minutes ago. Some other crazy stuff happened with me, but happily, my life is finally slowing down again and I'm able to write. I've just re-opened my old Gakuen Hetalia forum, as well as a canon-Hetalia based one and they both seem to be doing well (especially Gakuen) and it's SO much fun. If anyone is interesting in joining one of them, heave a shout-out in review and I'll try to link you.

Anywhooo... next chapter! Reviews, then we're ready to go!

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WestAero13:** Hai, hai. I'm sorry it's late! Here is the update that should have been up a while ago.

**Hannah:** Ah... Really, I doubt I've got the BEST Berlin Wall fic around... but thank you. I'm really glad you're enjoying it so much. This entire chapter is based around Ludwig and Gilbo, so it should keep you entertained.

**kiduchiha:** I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. Always too to know I've made someone smile. :D This one isn't quite as happy, however... I apologize in advance.

**dark0shade: **He's not dead yet! Don't worry, and thank you.

**Katsumi the Kitsune:** Hey now, no tears. It's alright. Gilbo will be just fine... Maybe. Hehe.

**Little-fox012: **I'm really glad you're enjoying this. I was worried that the Baltics and Ludwig would be out of character, but everyone seems to think they're doing just fine for their situation, which is good. I always thought that they might have played some part with Gilbo behind the wall, but we never see it. I do feel bad, though. If Ludwig broke your heart last chapter, than this one... well... you'll see.

**Noile: **Of course I replied back. You left me a review. It's only polite to do so, yes? Technically, the wall was coming down, so the Trembling-Trio only helped him get to the freedom he already had. They can't really get in trouble for that. The beginning of this chapter WAS exactly like the prologue, and that was planned from the start. A preview of what was to come and I guess a bit of a teaser, really. (I admit, I stole the idea from the Twilight books, don't shoot me!) However, I think Ludwig cares a lot more for his brother and others than people think. He's just not the type to show off emotions.

**LittleGirlInRed:** I don't think Natalia was ever a "bad guy", so I can't really say she's shown as a "good guy" in my story. She's a bit brother-obsessed, but I don't think she's a bad person at all.

**Nightwing99:** Uwaaa... So many people are saying I've written the best Berlin Wall fic they've ever read, but I'm really not that good... I didn't want to get too violent in this story, but I have a really dark view on what happened behind the wall. I'm glad my writing isn't repetitive though. I hope that this chapter is as good for you as the rest.

**Victoria Wan: **Awesome and amazing, huh? Danke. Here is the next chapter... although more cliff-hangers ahead, fair warning.

**ImmortalKiky:** And here _is_ moar. I hope you enjoy it.

**aoi-akai:** This chapter IS a lot like that of my other story, and the next chapter should be familiar, too, but I've also changed them around and I completely re-write this one. Hopefully the changes and increase in quality is enough to notice. (And Mein Gott is a good song. Gooood song. It's next on my iTunes list to play. Hurhur.)

**Shiawaseness:** Don't count yourself out, your English is very good! I'm glad you enjoyed the story, but I am sorry for making you cry. Hopefully I won't be doing that too often.

**LonelyStorm:** Ah, no Austria here, at least, not by more than name. It's good to know my writing is good enough to get you teary even if you knew what was coming, but I'm sorry for making you cry...

**CrystalLotus98:** A little deja vu, yes. Alas, this chapter may give the same feeling, but it is MUCH better than the copy that was posted before. MUCH. I'm glad my writing is good enough to keep your attention. I know yours is. I've had to keep reminding myself to finish this before going to read the update of your story that I saw a few minutes ago. XD But yes. RODDY WILL BE THERE SOON! HOLD ON, GERMANS! HOLD ON!

**KyuuketsukiNekko:** Roderich will be there soon, don't worry. Next chapter, I promise. I hope I didn't upset too many people by freeing him then making him collapse, but almost thirty years of abuse does that to a man. Things will get better eventually. Maybe. Hehe. Can't spoil the ending. I can't say if it's happy or sad. Honestly, I have both planned. All depends on my mood when it comes to posting.

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**Chapter Six_  
(After the collapse of the wall…)_**

Nights were always the worst.

Gilbert was convinced that hell was a haven compared to what he felt now, and there were more times than he could count when he'd simply wished it would all stop, that whatever God there was would take pity on him and just end it for good. Days would melt together in a blur of mixed colours and fogged memories he couldn't make sense of, and it was impossible to tell one day from the next. With each passing minute, everything seemed to grow more painful, and the albino couldn't understand how his entire being hadn't simply gone numb from the constant waves of pain that coursed though his frail body. The day he'd been stripped of his title as Prussia hadn't been half as painful; Gilbert would rather have re-lived the shame and pitiful agony he'd felt back then a hundred times over than what he was going through now.

Even when he was unconscious, his only escape from the pain raging throughout his body, the torment didn't end. Nightmares plagued his mind each time he shut his eyes. Unlike when he'd been locked away in Russia, where dreams of being reunited with those he cared about proved a small comfort, now that he was home, the hellish visions of all his experiences from the cold basement would play over and over again in his mind. The numerous layers of blankets never seemed enough to warm his body and ease the violent shivers that came as he remembered the snow-frozen cement room. Gilbert's only comfort, the only reassurance that he was truly home, was Ludwig's hand clutching his, the deep rumble of his brother's voice quietly talking to him about things he couldn't remember or understand as a wet cloth dabbed at his sweat-soaked forehead.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

A week had passed since Gilbert's return, and Ludwig was sitting at his brother's side once more. He rarely moved from the chair he'd pushed up to the bedside, only allowing himself small breaks for food when his stomach would demand food too loudly or he needed the bathroom. The German had set up a makeshift bed on the sofa in Gilbert's room, blankets hanging haphazardly off the cushions with a lopsided pillow popped up against the arm. The mess made his hands twitch compulsively with the urge to clean, but cleaning meant stepping away from his brother. With the albino's condition as unstable as it was, he didn't spend more time away from the older nation's side that he had to. His gloves, which he'd taken off in hopes that his own body heat would warm Gilbert's hands, were sitting on the nightstand next to a plate of cold and half-eaten pasta. Feliciano had brought the meal several hours previously in hopes of getting the older nation to eat before he was dragged away by his brother who, much to Ludwig's surprise, had shown enough courtesy to refrain from insulting him as was per-normal.

It had become something like clockwork; every day Feliciano would stop in, sometimes followed by his brother, sometimes not, and he'd bring a fresh plate of food for Ludwig to eat. Much to the German's relief, it wasn't always pasta, and from the looks of some of the meals, it seemed that all the other nations were taking it in turn to give the Italian food to bring to him with notes of their well-wishes and, every few days, fresh flowers for Gilbert's room. At least once a week, Kiku would visit him, followed closely from behind by a tired-looking Yao who, according to a rather oddly worded letter from Alfred, had refused to leave the raven nation's side since he'd been allowed to leave the hospital, despite the problems that were currently ravishing his country.

A bright blush had started to spread over Gilbert's cheeks, causing a deep frown to twist over Ludwig's features. The albino's breathing was becoming uneven again, and it only took the German's hand on his forehead for him to notice the head radiating from his body. Gilbert's fever had spiked again, and it did little to settle the blond nation's nerves. The fever had been coming and going since the Prussian had returned home, and he'd barely been able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. He drank very little and ate even less; only able to stomach a fraction of the minuscule amounts of food (usually broth or soup of some sort) he managed to swallow. Ludwig had been the only one Gilbert seemed to be trusting food from, and there were still times when the German was left with no choice but to force-feed the Prussian to prevent his malnourishment from worsening.

With a small groan, Ludwig rubbed his tired and puffy eyes as he leaned back in his chair, stretching backward until his back let out a small 'pop'. Long nights with no sleep were starting to take their toll, but he managed to work in enough to keep his own health from collapsing; though he stubbornly believed that Gilbert's health was far more important than his. There was little he could do for the fever but give the albino an injection of the medication a doctor had left for his use along with a case full of fresh needles. The medicine itself worked nicely and often brought the fever down fairly quickly, but that didn't stop Ludwig from worrying. A quick glance at the clock told him it was time to change Gilbert's dressings for the day, and he much preferred to complete the task while the Prussian was unconscious. The flashes of pain that would cross his brother's features as he worked were hard to look at, and it left Ludwig feeling as if he'd been the one who had caused everything that had happened in the first place.

Grabbing a fresh roll of gauze and several bandages, Ludwig pushed his chair back and sat on the edge of Gilbert's bed, leaning over to remove the first spoiled wrapping from the albino's eye. The wounds around the crimson iris had, thankfully, stopped bleeding but were closing much slower than normal, much like all the other injuries. None of them seemed to be healing properly, and Ludwig doubted they would even start to do so until Gilbert's body healed itself enough so that it wasn't putting all its effort into keeping his heart beating and lungs working. The doctor had taught him how to remove and dress each wound carefully, with a long list of written instructions explaining what the German should do should anything go wrong, but there was only so much that could be done. The rest was up to time and Gilbert's will-power.

Countless times Ludwig had asked himself how Gilbert had survived through all that had happened to him. His brother was strong, he knew that, one of the strongest people he knew, despite his sometimes annoying and outlandish habits, and he was counting on that strength to pull the Prussian though this. Still, even the albino had a breaking point, and the German was terrified of how close the albino was to reaching it. Burns, scars, gashes, bruises, broken bones, and things Ludwig dared not name covered his brother's once beautiful and pale skin, giving Gilbert the appearance of the living dead. All of it had come from the cruel hands of a professional torturer, and it was only the albino's bedridden and helpless condition that kept Ludwig from storming across the border in the middle of the night and getting his revenge; that, along with the sneaking suspicion that he'd have at least five different nations piled on top of him before he could make it out of his own country.

As he tossed the stained and soiled bandages into the near-full wastebasket, he opted to remain on the edge of the bed rather than return to his chair. Sapphire eyes glanced longingly over to the couch that was his bed before returning to his brother's pained expression. He could only remember having made it to the couch for a few hours of sleep twice that week. The rest of his waking hours had been spent sitting in the chair, or lying atop his brother's covers and cradling to the albino to his chest as the elder nation whimpered and sobbed in his sleep. Gilbert's condition only seemed to be getting worse, and the German was well aware that, if something didn't change soon, their reunion would have been proved futile and hope of another wouldn't be possible; not in this world, at least.

Tears gathered in the corners of Ludwig's eyes as he stared at his brother's shivering form under the many layers of blankets. For so many years he had longed for Gilbert's return; a painful aching plea to see the Prussian again. Despite his brash behavior and wild "couldn't-care-less" personality, the albino had always been there whenever Ludwig needed him. His memories had started with Gilbert, and part of him had always prayed that's how they would end, too. The elder nation had raised him as a child, nurtured and protected him from the other countries until he was able to stand on his own, and even after that he kept close and pushed for Ludwig to be his best. Yet now, when it was Gilbert who needed him… he couldn't do anything. He was completely powerless, and it frustrated him more than anything he could possibly imagine.

"Gilbert," he murmured, taking the silverette's hand in his own. "Ost…" he choked, biting his lip as he tried to force down the sudden lump that had formed in his chest. "You've… suffered so much for me, you've been through hell and back, and the entire time… I never knew." _Everything that happened in Russia, everything that Ivan did to him… Why would you go through all that… just to protect me? It isn't right. It isn't fair! Dammit… I almost wish Eduard hadn't written me at all. But I deserve the guilt... This wouldn't have happened if I were just stronger._ "Gilbert, my brother… please don't leave me alone. Not like this. Y-you're supposed to be the strong one; the one who prospers…"

Ludwig wasn't a beggar. He never had been, and he never planned to be. He didn't plead and he didn't pray uselessly. Hope was something that existed for motivational purposes along to ensure that the rules were followed… yet he'd lost count how many times he found himself praying in silence as of late for something, anything, to happen for his brother. He wanted to see Gilbert on his feet, away and eating. He didn't care if the albino ate him out of house or how much beer it took to stop his complaints or demands. As long as his brother was healing, that he was getting better, he'd have gladly done anything it took.

"Gilbert," he urged quietly, clutching the Prussian's hands tighter in his own. "Come on… fight."

**

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**

Since the week had started, Gilbert had barely finished more than a single meal in total. Water was the only thing the Prussian could manage to keep down without fear of it coming back up shortly after. He enjoyed the cool feeling it gave his body as it traveled down his throat, the soothing cold a welcome relief against the pain he felt. Broth, while painful when too warm, worked like water and he was still baffled at how something so simple could taste so good. It was easy to swallow and, for the most part, it kept down in his stomach.

As the days trickled by, time drifted constantly somewhere between consciousness and sleep. He could only remember the smallest of snippets from when he was awake, and each time he opened his eyes it felt as if he hadn't been asleep at all. His memories of the return home were weak, and all he could remember was the panicked face of his brother just as he'd collapsed.

Now, just over a week later, something in the albino stirred, and, for the first time since he came home, his uncovered eye opened completely and slowly moved about the room. His gaze finally shifted to the bowed head of Ludwig who was concentrating more on the Prussian's hand than face, and a weak smile graced his pale lips.

"Don't... I always tell you, West…" he coughed, wincing as the sudden rush of air felt like a dagger being forced up his throat. "…that German… men don't cry? They're… tougher than nails… and shit like that. Y-you're bawling like… a fuckin' baby… It's… so not awesome…"

"G-Gilbert?" Ludwig's head snapped up in shock, eyes wide. His tears seemed to stop only from the shock as he stared at his brother's frail form shivering in an attempt to keep itself warm. Several more violent coughs shook the Prussian's body, but he was fully awake for the first time in days, and the German couldn't have been more relieved.

"Dun shout…" Gilbert groaned in a slurred tone, wincing as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. The soft fabric of the blankets felt odd against his bare skin, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see the tattered remains of the uniform Ludwig had removed almost a week ago. He had almost made a teasing jest at the younger nation for "stripping" him while he was unconscious, but the words wouldn't come. "…Headache."

"S-sorry…" the blond whispered, moving to sit in the chair beside the bed once more. "I didn't mean… it doesn't matter. Can I get you anything?"

The albino grinned and gave his brother's hand a light squeeze. "Thirsty," he answered in a raspy tone. "…Love some beer."

"Ost," Ludwig scolded quietly. "You can't have _beer_ in your condition! You can barely keep your food down, let alone stay conscious. Why would I give you beer? You're heavily medicated as it is and—"

"_Mein Gott_, West… it was… a damn joke…" Gilbert rolled his visible eye and sighed. Another cough bubbled in his throat and his entire body convulsed with the effort to get it out. He was cold, but there were already a number of blankets on him and adding more of the thick material risked causing more damage to his unhealed wounds. "Water is fine…"

With a silent nod, Ludwig grabbed the wet cloth he'd placed on Gilbert's head previously and dipped it back in the bowl of water. He wrung it out and gently draped it back across the Prussian's forehead, ignoring the whimper of protest and left the room. As he entered the kitchen, a hand slowly worked its way through his blond hair, working out the various knots which had formed in the strands. He hadn't showered in several days, and the effects were starting to make themselves obvious as he pulled his hand away from his head with a grimace. Since Gilbert had returned home, he had started caring about his own hygiene less and less. He stayed healthy and ate, he remained sure of that. He couldn't care for the Prussian if he collapsed, and he made sure to remember that.

"He's still so weak…" Ludwig muttered to himself as he filled a glass with cool water from the sink. His sapphire eyes stared dully at the transparent liquid, a small frown tugging at his lips. "He can barely speak… and nothing seems to be changing. I know it's only been a week since he came home, but… shouldn't _something_ have changed by now?" Shaking his head, he left the kitchen and started back up the stairs. The faint sound of weak coughs drifted down the hall, and the German subconsciously quickened his pace. _Complaining about his condition isn't going to change anything,_ he thought. _Gilbert has supported me through everything I've ever done… he's fought for my name, and did everything he could for me; even if the means were unorthodox. The very least I can do now is…_

As he reentered the room, Ludwig forced a small smile and took his seat beside the bet once more. Gilbert's gaze shifted slowly to meet his brother's, and the smile was returned weakly. "You gave us quite a scare," the blond began awkwardly. "You've… had a lot of visitors since you came home…"

"Worry wart…" Gilbert muttered with a roll of his eyes. "I'm willing to bet almost all the visits were from Feli and he was more worried about you than anything… else…" He coughed again. "And… Kiku doesn't count… he's too polite _not_ to come…"

"…Don't talk," Ludwig ordered in a quiet tone. He slipped a hand under Gilbert's neck and eased the albino's head upward to avoid choking him. "You're just going to exhaust yourself—here. Open your mouth, water…"

"Mm…" Gilbert grunted quietly, but obliged to his brother's orders. His lips pursed around the edge of the class, and he slowly managed to swallow several gulps of water without spilling on himself. When he was finished, he blinked several times and pushed against the glass with his tongue. "M'done…"

Ludwig nodded silently and pulled the glass away, setting it on the bedside table with a small, encouraging smile. "Hopefully that should stay down… How are you feeling?"

"Pretty shitty, honestly," Gilbert muttered in a blunt and bitter whisper. His unbandaged eye was beginning to slowly slide shut, meaning sleep was likely to soon follow. "Like complete shit… and I'm fuckin' tired…

"Just rest for now," the younger nation said in a comforting tone as he removed the wet cloth from Gilbert's forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up…"

"Yeah… _you_ will…" the silverette muttered in a depressed tone. "You… you'll always be there, West. Just… like a good little brother… M'grateful…"

"Ost…?" Ludwig leaned forward, angling his head closer so that his ear was hovering a few inches above Gilbert's lips. "What are you talking about?"

"You… came for me… the wall…"

"Of course I did…" the German said, a confused look crossing his features. "I—why wouldn't I? I don't… were you expecting someone else?"

"N-no…" Gilbert laughed weakly, his eye now shut completely. "Wasn't… 'spectin… 'im to come…"

"Who? Ost, hold on, I—Who were you hoping to see?"

"…Ha… he'd never… come…"

"Gilbert?"

"R-Roddy…" the albino said in a hushed whisper, a soft sigh tumbling from his lips as he was finally lost in the land of slumber.

"Roddy?" Ludwig repeated, confused. He wanted to inquire further, but Gilbert was already fast asleep and he didn't dare wake his brother from what appeared to be his first semi-peaceful sleep in what was quite possibly years. The name sounded as if the answer were obvious, but the German couldn't see reason why the Prussian would want one of his small chicks to come and meet him at the rubble. As far as he knew, Gilbert didn't favour any of them, giving each an equal amount of love and affection.

And then it clicked.

_"Mein Gott,"_ he muttered, staring at Gilbert's slumbering face. "He… meant _Roderich_. He… he wants _Austria…_"


	8. Chapter Seven

We've finally passed that point where "How to Save a Life" is all caught up with. Yay! From now on, this'll be the updated version of the story and How to Save a Life will be deleted in a few minutes after I post this. I really hope the previous chapters were entertaining for everyone and proved to be better quality than the first time they were posted for old readers, and to the new ones, thank you for starting my story.

As promised, there is more Roderich in this chapter! : D And hopefully since he's in here a lot, it'll make up for his lack of appearance in previous chapters. Enjoy!

Also, just a quick note, the Vienna Philharmonic is one of the best orchestra's in Austria... however, I'm not certain they actually do what I had them do in this chapter, so for fiction's sake, we'll pretend that they do, yes?

ALSO, I'M SO SORRY THIS WASN'T UPLOADED EARLIER! I completely forgot that I hadn't uploaded and... yeah, I don't even have an excuse. I just forgot... I don't even know if this is the right chapter, but I'm really hoping I'm uploading the right one.

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**GreetingsWithLove:** Was the last chapter really that historically off? I was trying to avoid using specific dates to give myself some moving room, and the only date I can think of is arguable is the one I sent Gilbert home with. I know that wasn't the date the wall officially came down, but it was the date in which a riot started out that the guards were ordered to let go and people from the East were able to return...Still, I'm glad you enjoyed the story despite that. I'm kinda paranoid now... I was fairly proud of myself for following basic history in this story, but now I'm tempted to go back and rewrite everything before I continue. I had really wanted to stay on the "realistic" path for this... As for your request, I'm sure we could talk a little more about what you want. I'm reaching the end of my senior year in high school right now, so I'm short on time, but I bet we could organize something.

**Insanity Is Iminent: **Ah? It made you like Belarus more? That's good... I feel the girl needs more fans. Too many people see her as "that crazy person", and I'm really glad you liked the Baltics. I've never really used them for anything other than this story, so I thought I might have gone far off-character.

**Naomi Hansen:** Yep! We're finally all caught up. I really hope everyone enjoys what I had planned from this point onward...

**Senaki Mira: **I hope you weren't waiting too long, but here's the next chapter. I really hope the rest of the storyline is good.

**LonelyStorm:** I always have mixed feelings when I make people cry. I'm glad my writing is that good, but at the same time I feel bad for making it so depressing that someone ends up in tears over it... but yes, Roderich is finally back and I'm pleased that everyone's emotion was able to reach you so well.

**LittleGirlInRed:** Roderich is in this one, for real this time! No more "just mentions". He's actually there.

**AVY:** A lot of people seemed to be really eager to see Roderich finally make his appearance. I'm kinda worried I didn't debut him well enough... Still, hopefully, this is good for you all.

**-x-Bashli-x-:** Haha... I like staring at your Cloud icon. Hur... -ahem-. Anyway... I'm glad you enjoyed Ludo and Gilbo in this. I see Germancest way too often lately (not that I have a grudge against the couple or anything...) but I really miss seeing their brotherly relationship. It's really sweet and has so much to build on.

**CrystalLotus98:** Patience is important, you know. I have to wait for _your_ updates, too! You can't get sad about mine. Still, I'm glad you're still reading and enjoying this story. I'm having a lot of fun writing it.

**Little-fox012:** I wish I had a brother like Ludwig _or_ Gilbert (both would just be EPIC). They're both so amazing and have such a wonderful relationship. Of course, we'll find out of Roddy helps some soon. Gilbo can hold on just a little longer, ja?

**PinkPanther123:** I don't believe you did, but thank you for coming back to do so. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so much and I hope I can continue to write something worth your while. That's a lot of "eh" in there, though. Are you sure you're not Canadian? ;3 Still, be sure to take those meds on time.

**LolliDictator: **Epic already? But it hasn't even reached it's halfway point. I have a lot more planned for this. I hope I'm not building anything too large just yet.

**KyuuketsukiNekko:** I know a lot how Gilbert feels, honestly. I've spent too much time in the hospital myself. Still, Roderich _will_ be in this chapter for sure, and in the next one as well. He'll be around a lot more now and I really hope people enjoy what he does.

**aoi-akai:** The last chapter was where I stopped in the previous story, and from here on out, it should be full-steam ahead. Gilbo really does strike me as the type who would be unhappy in a miserable situation, so he'd tried to make the best of what he could and crack the jokes until his voice didn't work anymore; especially when Ludwig or Roderich are involved. Still... I don't think my writing is all that wonderful. I often feel you all praise me too highly, but when I see so many reviews, I always feel so happy and it motivates me to write that much more faster. Not so much for review count, but I love knowing that I've made something that makes people smile. (And personally, I like Yu-Gi-Oh. Nothing wrong with it, your other account side has good taste.)

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**Chapter Seven**

"Why would he want Roderich…?" Ludwig asked himself as he slowly made his way back into the kitchen, the plate of cold pasta from Gilbert's room gripped loosely in his hand. He had allowed himself just a few minutes to go downstairs and take care of the dishes before he would go back up. There was no pattern to Gilbert's sleeping patterns and the blond wasn't willing to risk missing the few moments he had while his brother was awake. If the albino needed _anything_, he wanted to be there to fetch it for him.

Sighing, he dumped the old noodles into the trash-bin and tossed the plate into the sink. Sapphire eyes raked over the accumulating pile of dirty dishes and winced at the mess. _I really need to take care of those_, he thought dully as he turned away from the sink to examine the rest of the kitchen. Fortunately, it was fairly clean given his lack of motivation to continue with chores. He silently thanked his young Italian friend who had generously been providing him with meals for almost a week now (and happily, the meals involved more than just pasta) and picked up afterward. Cleaning wasn't something Feliciano normally did, which made Ludwig all the more grateful that he seemed to have suddenly adopted the habit.

"I need to remember to thank him for all he's done…" the blond muttered in a thoughtful tone as he left the kitchen and started down the hallway. "Perhaps when things have calmed down and Gilbert is able to sit up on his own." _Whenever that is… _he added silently, not wanting to think about just how long it might end up taking for the Prussian to recover as he took his seat beside the bed once more.

Leaning over to reach the table, Ludwig picked up his gloves and slowly began pulling them back on in an attempt to warm his cold hands. His stress levels were beginning to sky-rocket and he knew it. He knew perfectly well what would happen if he pushed himself too hard, but right now collapsing wasn't an option. He was scared to leave his post at Gilbert's side, but he knew what the Prussian would say if he knew how badly he was taking care of his own health.

"I can take a shower when Feliciano gets here," he assured himself quietly. "At least that way, he has someone with him should he wake up."

"Ve~ I could watch who, Ludwig?"

"Wha-!" Ludwig jumped and turned around, eyes wide as he nearly knocked the chair he'd been sitting in over. The brunette Italian was standing by the door only a few feet away, his curious chocolate-caramel eyes focused on the German's panicked face. How Feliciano of all people, who put little to no effort into being quiet, could both enter the house and come up the stairs without being noticed was beyond him. The painful hammering of his heart against his chest slowed, relief washing over him. For a brief moment, he'd though the Italian was Ivan come to finish his brother off. "F-Feliciano… I, ah, didn't expect you for a few more hours."

"Lovino let me come early today," Feliciano said happily, crossing the length of the room to throw his arms around Ludwig's shoulders. "He said he didn't want to come today because he wasn't feeling well… But I think it's because big brother Antonio is coming to visit."

"M-maybe…" the German muttered, carefully easing the young brunette back to the floor. There was no doubt in his mind that the Italian's suggestion was correct in more ways than his innocent mind could understand. Still, Ludwig was grateful for it. Once again Feliciano was proving his uncanny ability to make his world brighter even when he was at his worst.

**

* * *

**

Roderich stepped off the stage, oblivious to the long sustained ripple of applause that bad begun with the last notes of "Blue Danube" still ringing about the concert hall as people stood from their seats, crowding around him in approval as he made his way back toward his dressing room. The tour organizer, whose insistence was all that had kept him on the world tour with the other members of Vienna Philharmonic, followed him quietly, dutifully pushing back the more daring admirers.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice noted that he'd missed several notes during the last movement. The professional pianist side of his mind, usually dominant, wanted to demand a replay for it, to atone for shaming such beautiful music. However, his emotional side, currently in turmoil, couldn't have cared less and thought himself pathetic for even noticing. It was only the iron self-control that he'd somehow managed to scrape together that was keeping him in check; in the end, though, it didn't seem to matter either way. If he had managed to have his way, he wouldn't have been on tour at all. Instead, he would be pacing his music room nervously, hands wringing together and trembling too much to get a single note out of his piano as he waited in dull hope for news that didn't seem as if it would ever come.

As he entered his dressing room, Roderich's eyes shifted to a small portable television in the corner of the room. The reception wasn't the best, a thin layer of snow covering the picture, but it got the job done. A replay of the moment the Berlin Wall was torn down was being shown yet again, but it was little more than stock footage by this point. It had been replayed countless times on every news network from every possible angle since that historic day. Yet each time, even if he had memorized each face the camera focused on long enough to make out, he watched it intently, silently praying that there was something, anything that he could have missed that would be different. There was only one person he ever looked for, and the rest were useless faces that blurred together in fogged memories. White hair wasn't exactly common among young faces, and if not that, red eyes were sure to stand out in a sea of more natural colours. Unfortunately, with so many people moving and rushing around to meet their loved ones, even if a camera had managed to pan over the albino he so longed to see, he doubted it would have been long enough for his violet eyes to realize who it was.

With a heavy sigh, Roderich fell back into the padded fold-out chair he'd been given to relax in as a last minute request. The seat felt unnaturally hard against his back, and no matter how he shifted himself, he couldn't seem to find a position that was comfortable enough to say in for more than a few minutes. His mind was still focused intently on the blurred image and the rambles of the reporter on the screen, but none of it seemed to register properly.

"Sir…?"

Roderich jumped, tearing his gaze away from the screen to stare at his aide. The man regarded him with an uneasy look, but the brunette merely blinked and inclined his head to the side in a silent gesture of approval for the other to continue.

"You were very good tonight, sir. Simply wonderful, as always, but, ah… I should mention… You have a phone call waiting for you. They've been on hold for a while."

The Austrian nation sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a tired gesture before cleaning them on his cravat without much thought. "Is it Elizaveta, again?" he asked, feeling his fatigue suddenly soar several levels higher than it already was. "I understand that she is concerned, but needlessly calling me twice a day just to ensure I haven't 'done something silly' isn't nece—"

"It's, uh…" the aide paused and glanced at the phone in his hand. "It is a Mr. Ludwig, sir?"

Roderich froze, eyes wide as he went rigid in his chair. "L-Ludwig?"

The aide nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. He called during your set, and we…"

"Ludwig called and you didn't tell me?" Roderich interrupted, the tone of his voice growing in volume and sharpness as he rose from his seat. Violet hues flashed dangerously, a look of anger that bordered on pure fury danced rapidly in his eyes as his face contorted and caused the manager to take a step back.

"Y-you were on stage, sir! I couldn't interrupt—"

"Give me the phone. _Now!_"

The aide nodded and stepped forward, muttering something into the receiver before holding it out at arm's length to the fuming musician. It was clear that the man was terrified of being struck by anything the brunette could have gotten his hands on, or by the Austrian himself.

"I'm sorry you were kept waiting," Roderich murmured as he pressed the phone to his ear. "They didn't tell me about your call until after the concert or I would have been here sooner. I…" the brunette paused, shutting his eyes as he inhaled slowly. "…Ludwig, how is he?"

_"He's not as good as I had hoped he would be." _Ludwig replied in a soft tone, his voice quieter than normal, almost exhausted sounding. With absolutely no noise in the background, it sounded as if the man were standing in a graveyard.

Something in Roderich's stomach plummeted to the floor. The German had never been one to exaggerate a situation regardless of its seriousness. He had always taken the idea of getting the point across as accurately and quickly as possible seriously. He was blunt and to the point, he always had been, and the Austrian had admired that in his German neighbor. But now was one of the few times he couldn't help but wish that Ludwig was a little more like his brother with his dramatic way of telling someone about a situation.

"How bad is he? …Exactly."

Several minutes of silence that felt like hours passed by slowly, and Roderich heard nothing but Ludwig's soft breathing on the other end of the line. A heavy sigh filled the speaker, and in the background he could hear the faint sounds of a chair scraping against the floor. He was moving, that much the brunette could tell, and soon after he heard the sound of a door shutting. A second sigh sounded loudly in his ears, followed by several quiet curses in the blond's native tongue. Roderich's throat had started to run dry and he almost wished he hadn't asked in the first place. The way Ludwig was acting was enough to tell him that whatever was happening there wasn't good.

His fingers tightened reflexively around the phone as he slowly lowered himself back into his chair, his grip tightening with each word as Ludwig meticulously and methodically listed all of Gilbert's injuries. The monster that had formed in Roderich's stomach began to writhe, clawing cruelly at his insides and making him feel ill. His mouth had fallen open in silent shock and he could no longer find the proper strength to form words. The aide was glancing at him in worry, hands twitching nervously at his sides as if expecting the brunette to suddenly attack him in a violent burst of rage.

"…He has a fever as well and he's been unconscious almost constantly since he's come home."

"Th-that…" Roderich gulped, feeling a lump form in his throat. _That Russian bastard-!_

The one-sided conversation continued for several minutes as Ludwig continued to recount all that had happened since Gilbert returned home. With each finished sentenced, the brunette felt himself fall several inches deeper into his own pit of despair. Each time Roderich opened his mouth to speak, he would pause and think better of it, opting to keep silent. He didn't want to interfere, especially in a place where he was quite sure he wasn't wanted. Of course, if he was able to help, he would have been there in a heartbeat. All around him, the world seemed to have gone completely black as the monster rose to his chest and made breathing painful. All he could do was concentrate on the deep and rumbling tone from the other end.

"That wasn't what I called for though… He's asking for _you_, Roderich."

Roderich rose from his chair, the expression of horror melting into one of mild concern, then surprise. "I… beg your pardon?"

"He's asking for you, by _name_. I don't know why, so I'm afraid I can't explain that or what it is he's dreaming about when he does it... but yours is the only coherent name he's called since coming home. He calls for you every night… and I realize this is strange, and I know that you two aren't always on the best of terms, but I thought you should know. I know you're busy with the world tour with your orchestra, but if there is any way you could…"

Suddenly finding his voice again, Roderich straightened and began nodding, making his attendant jump at the sudden movement. "I'm on my way right now."

His stage manager stood up in surprise and Ludwig's voice reflected the same shock. He tried to respond, but the Austrian had already cut him off, his expression determined and firm. "I will be on the first flight to Berlin within the hour." Not waiting for a response, he hung up and set the phone aside; there was little time, and he had to hurry.

His aide was jumping around him by this point, eyes wide and hands twitching madly. "What are you _doing? _People have paid for their tickets! I mean, you can't just…"

"_Yes_, I _can_!" Roderich snapped, turning toward his agent. His violent eyes were flashing dangerously for a second time and the man quivered; he respected his country dearly, but the man before him was quite terrifying when he was at full anger. "And I believe I _am_. Make sure that the people get a full refund if they should demand it. Just tell them… that there is somewhere else that I need to be. Make whatever excuse you feel is necessary, but I'm afraid that my mind will not be swayed this time. I've held myself at bay long enough."

"Wh-what… but-! Herr Edelstein, the orchestra-!"

"They can continue without me," the brunette replied curtly, grabbing a brown leather shoulder bag from a hook on the back of the door. "I'll be taking my leave now. Please do your best on the rest of the tour without me. I shall be sure to watch whatever media coverage I'm able to find."

And with that, he walked out the door.

**

* * *

**

Ed Murray folded his arms. He knew a trick when he heard it.

"So let me get this straight. You are willing to pay me, in _cash_, to swap flights with you?"

Roderich nodded in response, his face serious and eyes desperate. "That's correct. I can pay you…" he paused and drew his wallet from a pocket inside his coat, flipping it open to shuffle though the contents. "…perhaps 200? We—that is, the orchestra I was traveling with—was, well, _are_, on tour and we'd just gotten back from America. I haven't had the time to exchange currencies yet, but I can assure you that I have a friend who would be more than willing to trade it into any country's money that you desire."

"You're going to pay me 200-dollars just to wait an extra two hours? Who would do that?" Ed furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. "How do I know this isn't some bogus ticket and that you're not just trying to pull some sort of con-game on me?"

"I'm not!" Roderich half-shouted, making several people turn to stare. A guard nearby quirked an eyebrow and lowered his hand to his hip, finger twitching. The weapon in his belt was easily visible from where the Austrian stood, and the brunette knew the guard was just waiting for him to become violent as an excuse to draw it.

Biting his lip, Roderich sighed softly, shaking his head and returned his gaze to the man in front of him. The look on his face turned into one of pleading as his voice softened, the tone sorrowful and sincere in its need for help. "I-I have a… friend, a very, very dear friend, who I haven't seen in a very long time, and he is very sick. His brother called me no more than an hour ago and…" His voice had started to tremble slightly, but the truthful look in his eyes remained strong. "He, that is, my friend, is asking for me, and I want to be there for him as soon as I can."

Ed sighed and ran a hand through his hair, fixing Roderich with a bemused look; he could barely understand anything that was being said to him. He wasn't exactly fluent in German, and the man's English wasn't quite perfect, though very good for a foreigner. Still, it wasn't helping that the Austrian man seemed to be switching between German and English with each sentence he spoke, but the sincere tone in which he used had no faults that Ed could find. Thus, slowly but surely, he found himself giving in to the man's story, a rush of sympathy rolling in his stomach. "Okay, okay. Fine. I don't know how I'll explain it to my family, but they'll wait for me—and keep your money. From the way I hear it, you'll need it more than me, anyway."

Roderich smiled in relief as they exchanged tickets, taking Ed's hand between both of his and shook it firmly. "Thank you. Thank you so very much. If you and your family should ever decide to extend your travels to Austria, then please, just mention my name at the flight gates and you'll be taken care of, I promise you that. Roderich Edelstein, and thank you, Herr Murray."

"Yeah, sure… No problem, Roderich." Ed nodded as he watched the brunette dart away, sprinting for the terminal with only about twenty minutes until takeoff. A thoughtful look crossed his features as he produced his phone, pushing a button on speed-dial and waited for his wife to answer on the other end. "A vacation to Austria, huh?" he murmured to himself, glancing at a poster for the aforementioned country on the far side of the terminal. "…That would be interesting."


	9. Chapter Eight

Sorry for the delayed update, everyone! I really don't have an excuse, but I'm sure that the Persona fans were happy to see that I'd finally started uploading things there. Happily, my focus is now back to this story until I get at least two more chapters up, and then I'll move back to Persona for a chapter. In short, my goal is to try and upload both stories as much as I can to keep all my readers happy. Wish me luck!

Also, this is just a curiosity thing, but would anyone who reviews mind telling me what country they live in? I'm super nerdy and I _completely_ flip out when I see someone reviewing who isn't from the same country as myself. (Seriously, I grin like an idiot at the screen... because for some reason, it makes me feel ridiculously awesome, even though _most_ authors on this site have readers all over the place.)

(I'd write longer author's notes, but really, I want to answer reviews so I can get this chapter up already.)

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_**AND NOW FOR REVIEWS~!**_

**CielDeMinuit: **I'm glad my story got your attention even though it was about the Berlin Wall and not something you normally read. Nothing motivates me more than knowing I have enough skill to grab people's attention-especially if it's not something they would normally read.

**Erica Anna:** Sorry for the long wait! I hope you're doing alright. Thanks for reading the story and I'm glad you love it.

**SarcasticProcrastinator-AMLF:** An all-nighter? Oh my... I hope you were able to catch up on the lost sleep. Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I'm afraid a ol' Cliffie is a good friend of mine and he visits my stories a lot.

**Yuko6754:** Oops... That was a pretty weird typo. I'm sorry about that, but happily it isn't one huge enough that it'd completely throw people off. -coughs- Thanks for going through all the trouble of reviewing again to let me know.

**: **Have I mentioned I love your avatar? I do. I approve of it... so, so hard. (And you're profile tells me you're Italian. This is also awesome.) I hope this chapter doesn't mess with your stomach too much and that it's to your liking.

**Kuroshii:** Oh man... You really left me a long review. Thank you so much! I'm really flattered that you came back to my story after your break, and it means a lot that it was good enough to merit a second read. **_My Heart's Musician_** was one of my favourite stories to write, though I admit, this one is quickly growing on me even more than that one. I can't thank you enough for going through the trouble to look me up for more stories to read, and I'm so glad that I can write something you enjoy so much. BUT to explain the "Ost" (short for "Osten") and "West" thing, I noticed that in the anime and comics Ludwig uses nicknames for... well, no one, really, and that Gilbert called his brother "West" (which was canon-and yes, that is short for "Westen".) Then it got me thinking, "Well, calling him Gil might sound a bit odd..." then I thought that Ludwig calling him Ost (yes, that was for "East") would be sort of cute since Germany isn't the type to use nicknames. Osten seemed a little formal, and "nii-san" would seem odd since I'm trying to only use German phrases when those two speak in what isn't "written" as English. Therefore, I thought "Ost" would be cute, since it's a nickname, and that in and of itself is already saying that Ludwig must care a lot about the person, and it's also special since only _he_ can use it. After all, Gilbert was, at one point, East Germany, therefore "Ost" and "West" are names those two can only share with one another since Germany is/was split. It wasn't meant to be cold or informal, but I hope this helps you understand why I did it. It was meant to be cute, honestly.

**PurpleLeopard: **Thank you. I'm glad you do.

**-x-Bashli-x-:** Of course it doesn't have as much awesome as Prussia. Nothing can compare to that amount of sheer awesome! Ah, but, alas, I have not seen the newer version of the movie. I wish I could... I really love the brotherly relationship between the two German brothers, too, and I admit, I really, really, really adore writing it.

**TheEvilMuffinToaster:** Thank you for your love, but, um... p-please no noming. I need my hands and brain to write more of the story. Ahaha, and that is a pretty good image. That would be very, very manly. (Read: Manry.)

**Naomi Hansen:** Isn't hacking and bypassing fun? I loved doing that when I was in school with limited internet... I felt so skilled for getting past the blocks. Thanks for dropping a review... but I agree. There _is_ a little too much PruCan. As much as I love both characters, I prefer seeing them as best friends than a couple. Hopefully I'll be able to drag some more people into the fandom, ja?

**PinkPanther123:** I think everyone is worried about everyone at this rate... Ah, but is there something wrong with being Canadian? I love Canadians. And Canada. Awesome place to visit.

**Insanity Is Iminent:** Lots of Roddy and Gilbo in this chapter. As for tears, well, you'll have to read for that, no use in giving a yes or no to spoil things.

**KyuuketsukiNekko:** I'm sorry! This update is late, too... I feel awful for making everyone wait, but I really hope the chapters make up for my absence.

**Cupcake of Evil:** Feli as a ninja... that's a unique image. A bit scary, really. Can you imagine Mafia!Italy as a ninja? We'd all be doomed. ...Unless he ended up wearing orange like a certain blond we all know and love. And of course Roddy dropped everything and ran! He was worried about poor Gilbo... he hadn't seen him in so long, this was his chance. A concert can be rescheduled, however, friends in need cannot.

**LittleGirlInRed:** I spy a Su-san in your icon. Much approved! Roddy really is worried about Gilbo, but happily he'll be able to see him in this chapter!

**Haruhi-Is-Devious:** Don't worry! The PruAus is coming! I'm trying not to rush it in this story like I did my other one (though _**My Heart's Musician**_ was ABOUT their relationship, so I had to.) This one is more-so based on how long they've each hidden their feelings from one another and how being split apart for so long really brought that together. After all, even when they were at war with one another, they were still able to SEE each other. That, and near-death (hm... or will be die? -chuckle- can't give it away. I do like drama.) usually tends to help.

**Ookami of Mystery:** Angry!Austria is a lot of fun. Hell hath no fury like a Roderich scorned. ...Or something like that. The good news is... even MORE Roderich for you in this chapter. Enjoy.

**Koratah:** Ah... you died? Well, let us hope you are now a zombie and can read more. Lots more Roddy for you here.

**CrystalLotus98:** You know, several people actually asked me if Ed Murray was based off someone, but I assure you, the name was random. I even googled him just to check. All I could find was someone named Ed Murray who was a member of the Washington State Legislature. I doubt that's the answer you wanted, though. ...But yeah, Roderich really, really does love Gilbert a lot. If only he could admit that to himself and Gilbert.

**Noile:** I get the feeling people were waiting for Roderich to show up... Ahaha, then again, can't have PruAus without Roderich there. Not to worry, he will be in most, if not all the remaining chapters of the story. He's too worried to leave Gilbert alone.

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**Chapter Eight**

**_December 15th, 1989_**

As he waited for the attendant to give the okay for them to get off the plane, Roderich's hands wrung together nervously in his lap. He hadn't slept the entire flight and he was borderline exhausted, but each time he would try, images of worst case scenarios about the goings-on in Germany would flash before his eyes and the fear-driven adrenaline bursts would force him awake. The airport was visible from his seat through the window, and the brunette was slowly getting more and more irritated with the flight staff for not getting the cabin open faster. His hands had moved passed twitching and started trembling with such vigor that the Austrian nearly dropped his bag as he pulled it onto his lap.

Minutes that felt like hours ticked past one after another and the moment he heard the door open, Roderich nearly shoved several women in front of him back into their seats as he made a mad dash down the aisle. Happily, his gentlemanly habits were not swayed, even in his panicked state, and he allowed them to slip out first. The walkway that connected plane to the terminal felt more like an unending tunnel than anything else, and each hurried step forward only seemed to make the light at the end move further away. _Gilbert,_ he thought silently, breathing a sigh of relief as he realized he wouldn't have to go through baggage check; he'd only brought his carry-on. _Gilbert… I'm almost there._

Why the Prussian had wanted _him_ of all people, the musician couldn't even begin to fathom. Ludwig was correct when he had said the two of them hadn't always been on the best of terms, but he would admit (though grudgingly) that he had never hated the silverette at all. The wars they had fought against one another were only distant memories of the past, and neither of them had been given much of a choice in the matter. Whatever their leaders told them was law, and it was much easier to fight someone you told yourself you hated than one you cared for. Once the fights had stopped, visits to each other's house were more frequent—neither would admit to _why_ they felt they need to keep coming back, as they weren't entirely sure themselves—and the arguments had turned into "friendly" verbal spats that were more out of habit than anything else.

Still, the fact that the two of them were able to get along with one another as of recent years was quite strong. They couldn't be called friends, it was more than that, yet they certainly weren't enemies. Neither had been able to name exactly what it was they were to each other, but, whatever it was that they _were_, both would have reacted badly should the other have disappeared. _But what does that make us?_ Roderich asked himself silently as he made his way down toward the main floor of the airport. _I still don't understand why it's me he wants. Wouldn't Antonio or Francis be more suitable persons of comfort? Wouldn't he want Feliciano and his brother at his side? Or perhaps that young boy he always seems to be visiting? His name… or was that just Alfred?_

Completely lost in his thoughts, Roderich didn't notice the figure in front of him and let out a startled gasp as he stumbled glasses were knocked askew, hanging off only half his face as he scrambled to keep hold of his bag. "F-forgive me," he sputtered, grabbing the other person's hand without looking and helped them back to their feet. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and… Vash?"

"It's about time you got here!" the blond snapped, giving the Austrian a look as if he'd intentionally just run into him. "Do you know how long I've been waiting here! I had to _buy_ Lillian lunch just so I could get here in time! Then I had to buy my own_ and_ fill the damn car with gas twice. _Twice!_ Do you know how much money that is?"

"Ah…" Roderich blinked, fixing his glasses as he his mind worked quickly to try and catch up with everything that had just happened. "I… n-no. I… assume a fair amount?"

"Damn right a fair amount! You're lucky I'm not sending you the receipts for all this!"

"I…"

"If I get another hour put on, I'm making you pay for it." Vash muttered, grabbing Roderich's bag forcefully from his hands and starting down the hallway. Roderich could only nod in bewilderment as he followed after his fellow nation. He hadn't been expecting a ride at all, and the 200-dollars he didn't think he'd have by the time he arrived in Germany were going to be put towards cab-fare—though he wasn't at all complaining about the ride.

"MOVE IT!"

"Of course," Roderich nodded and hurried after Vash. If anyone was going to pick him up, he was glad it was the Swiss who had come. Vash would want to get rid of him as soon as possible, and that meant he would, very likely, ignore most of the speeding suggestions provided. And that meant he would get to Gilbert that much sooner.

**

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**

By the time they had arrived outside of Ludwig's house, Roderich's face had gone several shades paler than it normally was, and his knuckles were a snowy-white from the effort of clinging to his seat. His stomach felt as if it had been dropped to the road several miles back, and violet eyes stared blankly at the windshield before them as if it weren't actually there.

"We're here…" Vash muttered, crossing his arms as he stared at the brunette, clearly wondering why the other hadn't gotten out of his car yet. "Your bag is in the back."

Nodding, Roderich slowly undid the belt buckle, glancing out the window to make sure that they were, indeed, parked, before reaching for the door. He stepped outside without a work and walked around the car, opening the passenger door behind Vash. Sure enough, his bad was there on the floor, and he grabbed it, shutting the door after muttering a quick thank you and started for the house. A mechanic hum stopped him in his tracks as he heard Vash's window being rolled down followed by a sharp call of his name. The brunette turned, confused, and tilted his head to the side, waiting for the blond gunner to explain why he'd stopped him.

"Yes…?"

Vash's mouth opened and shut several times, his face appearing strained with the effort of both trying to say and swallow whatever words that were forming in his throat at the same time. The struggle continued for several minutes longer, and Roderich glanced toward the house behind him with an uneasy look. He really needed to be going inside, but whatever it was that was making Vash appear to have an aneurysm in his seat was likely important. The Austrian knew better than to push the subject, as the Swiss was never one to take well to nagging, but each minute that ticked by was another minute he _wasn't_ inside and seeing if Gilbert was alright. It wasn't until five minutes later that the blond made a noise that sounded, at least to Roderich, like a very good impression of a rodent being crushed under someone's foot before he finally spoke again. "…I'm sorry."

Roderich blinked, nearly dropping his back in shock as his jaw fell several inches. Of all the things Vash could have said, an apology, let alone one for him, was the last thing he'd expected. He almost thought it was a joke, but the seemingly painful struggle that the blond had gone through to say it assured Roderich it was true—though he did suspect that Lillian had been the one who urged her older brother to speak in the first place. "I… beg your pardon?"

"I'm not repeating it, dammit!" Vash said in a huff, crossing his arms and glaring at the steering wheel as if it had just wronged him. "I just mean… about all this… stuff, going on. Gilbert and… the wall and… whatever. That albino is a bastard… but he went through a lot of stuff he didn't deserve." He paused, and then added in a quiet tone. "So …I hope… everything goes okay."

A small smile tugged at Roderich's lips as he nodded and thanked Vash for the ride. The blond only grunted in response and continued to glare at the steering wheel. The Austrian had barely made it halfway up the walk before he heard the car speed off behind him at the exact same moment the front door of the German's house open and Ludwig rushed out. He opened his mouth to apologize for being so late, but the blond had already ripped his bag from his hand and was dragging him toward the house by his jacket and cravat in a manner most unorthodox. "L-Ludwig!" he sputtered, trying to hold himself up enough to avoid meeting the ground with his face. "What on earth are you-! Ludwig! Stop dragging me!" Though he flailed in protest, Roderich put little effort into actually stopping Ludwig from pulling him inside the house. It was unlike the German to act brash or compulsive, regardless of reason or situation, and the sudden need to get the brunette into the house kept him silent.

When they reached the second level, Ludwig paused outside Gilbert's room and, for the first time, Roderich realized just how exhausted the German looked. Puffy purple bags stood out against his sapphire eyes that were much duller than they used to be and a thin layer of fuzz that looked like something on Francis would approve of was beginning to show itself on his chin. His hair, normally slicked back and well kept, was beginning to fall around his face, framing it awkwardly as the effects of his gel were beginning to give out. His clothes hung loosely off his frame, making them appear a size too large and the Austrian noted that Ludwig was thinner than he remembered. "Does Gilbert know you're neglecting yourself like this, Ludwig?" he asked quietly, fixing the other with a sharp look.

"…I'm doing better, trust me." Ludwig responded, running a hand through his hair slowly, making it messier than it had been previously. "I'll shower while you're with him, but…" he paused, the uneasy look on his face making Roderich wince. "What you see… whatever I might have told you on the phone… seeing it is much worse."

Roderich could only nod in response, watching silence as Ludwig moved down the hall and disappeared into the bathroom. His gaze slowly moved to the door, staring silently as he tried to figure out what to do. His hand, which had moved without him realizing it, was gripping the doorknob in a vice-grip that turned his knuckles a pale white. It took him a few moments to notice that, the only reason he'd yet to open the door, was because his arm was trembling too much for him to properly turn the knob, and he immediately released it, giving the limb a good shake. _Calm down,_ he scolded himself. _Gilbert… he was calling for you. Stop acting like a fool and go inside!_ "But… how bad is it?" he murmured, remembering the look on Ludwig's face when he'd warned him. "…Is it truly that terrible?"

With a firm shake of his head, Roderich grabbed the doorknob and turned it quickly, pushing the door open as the hammering in his chest that had started sometime after he'd entered the front door doubled in power. The room was completely silent, and that alone made the brunette uneasy enough. Silence, when associated with Gilbert, was never a good thing. It meant only one of two things; that he was planning something, or something was very, very wrong. A small rustling of fabric made the Austrian jump and spin around, and the moment he did, his breath caught in his throat. There, lying on the bed stiller than he'd never seen the silverette before, was Gilbert.

Approaching the bed, the brunette all but collapsed into the chair he assumed the Ludwig had been using for the past few weeks. His fingers twitched violently, a sudden urge to rip that bandages that took up almost half the albino's face shooting through him. It didn't take much thought to know that the gauze extended down below the blankets and likely obscured most of the Prussian's skin below, as well. He bit his lip and raised a shaky hand hesitantly, awkwardly extending it toward Gilbert's pale and, thankfully, uncovered fingers, stopping short of the other by mere inches. It was like he was staring at a doll, a fragile, weaker than glass doll that would shatter if he so much as exhaled too harshly or shifted himself in the wrong way. This wasn't the Gilbert he knew at all and something in Roderich's chest crumpled as the cruel reality of the situation sunk in.

"What did he do to you…?" he muttered, gently covering the Prussian's hand with his own, wincing as he felt how cold it felt. Anger was beginning to bubble up in the back of his mind as a monster writhed painfully in his stomach, lashing out at his chest and entire being. _Ivan_ had done this to Gilbert, tortured and abused the albino until he'd nearly reached his breaking point before sending him home for someone else to glue the pieces back together. You_ could be that glue…_ a quiet voice murmured in his mind as he slowly began stroking the back of Gilbert's hand with his thumb. _Has he really ever done anything to deserve your abandonment now? To deserve this?_

As true as it was that the Prussian seemed to take pleasure in the act of annoying just about anyone he could as _much_ as he could, he'd never gone beyond just that; annoying. Roderich had never particularly enjoyed it when the silverette came over to insult or tease him, but even during those times, at least he'd _come._ Since his divorce with Elizabeta, his house was empty of anyone save for himself, and it wasn't until Gilbert's presence was suddenly forced away that he came to understand just how much he'd taken the (uninvited) visits for granted. While Gilbert was gone, he'd picked up the rather painful habit of _avoiding_ cleaning for as long as he could, just to make it _look_ like the Prussian had, in fact, come and made a mess of things again. He would cook sweets compulsively and leave them out in the dull, pointless hope that he might come downstairs to find Gilbert downing the treat as fast as possible, if he hadn't already finished, just to give him an excuse to scold him. Yet each morning he would enter his kitchen, he would find whatever dessert he'd made the night before exactly as he'd left it, making his eyes string with frustration and sorrow.

The dessert would then be either taken to another nation's house without a word or tossed into the trash if he wasn't confident enough in his emotional state to do so, and he would move into the piano room. There, he would stare blankly at the keys until his hands would begin moving themselves out of sheer habit and play a song he couldn't have named if the sheet music were right in front of him, but what he was playing wasn't really _music_ at all. It was too dull, emotionless, and empty. The piano that he'd once used to express whatever emotions were troubling him or take pleasure in it's beautiful sounded dead to his ears, and soon, he gave up trying to play the instrument entirely, and most days were spent with violet eyes gazing at the sofa several feet away from his bench, trying to picture a pair of gleaming crimson eyes and a cocky grin.

How long he had been sitting there watching Gilbert sleep, Roderich wasn't sure, but sometime after he'd taken the seat beside the bed and cradled the Prussian's hand in his own, Ludwig had re-entered the room with a tray of tea in his hands. The tea was placed on the bedside table without a word being passed between the two of them, and as if a switch had been flicked, the moment the blond pulled away to grab another chair for him to sit in, Gilbert began to stir. It was just a faint flicker of his eyelids, but enough to send Roderich to his feet and make Ludwig jump at the sudden movement.

"Gilbert…?" the Austrian called softly. "Gilbert? Are you…"

Before he could get the rest of his words out, crimson met violet and a soft scream tumbled from Gilbert's lips. He struggled, writhing violently on the bed in a desperate attempt to get away from a baffled Roderich. Ludwig reacted almost instantly and hurried forward, pushing the brunette back with more force than intended. The brunette stumbled but managed to catch himself, watching in faint horror as the blond tried to calm his brother's wordless pleas and violent trembles through the silverette's body.

"What is happening!" Roderich demanded, worry obvious in his tone. "Ludwig, what-!"

"I don't know!" Ludwig cut the other off with a desperate look. "It's been like this since he's come home… He'll have random attacks like this when he's awake and… I never know how to bring him back. It's… like he doesn't realize that he's really home. He wouldn't let me go near him for an entire day once because he thought I was…" the German nation trailed off and shook his head. "…He thought I was _him._"

_Him?_ Roderich thought, frowning. _Ivan, but…_ And then it clicked. He understood what it was that was setting Gilbert off, and knew how to solve it, if only for now. He stepped forward and pushed Ludwig's shoulder gently, urging the blond aside before he took a seat at the edge of Gilbert's bed once more. He clasped one of the other's pale hands gently between his own and leaned forward, shutting his eyes as he began to mutter something in quiet German that Ludwig couldn't make out beyond recognizing a few words in the Austrian dialect. Yet, whatever it was the musician had said seemed to work and Gilbert's struggles ceased. Not more than a few minutes later, the Prussian was asleep once more, clinging tightly to Roderich's hand, whom was more than willing to offer it.

Had it not been for his relief, Ludwig would have interrogated Roderich as to what he had said, but all he cared for at the moment was that Gilbert was calm. The last episode the Prussian had ended in him nearly ripping several of his stitches and an emergency call to the doctor from a frantic Ludwig who didn't know what to do. With a final glance at the two on the bed, the German decided it was best to just leave them for now and stepped back, leaving the tea for the Austrian's later enjoyment and made his way downstairs.

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**_January 18th, 1990_**

The door to Gilbert's room opened quietly as Roderich slipped inside, a cup of tea balanced carefully in his hands. Making his way over to the bed, he set the cup down and took a seat beside the Prussian, meeting his gaze carefully over the rim of his glasses. It wasn't the first time that the Austrian had tried this method of approach; he had come into the room the same day for nearly two weeks now, and, as expected Gilbert's reaction was no better than before.

A soft whimper tumbled from the silverette's lips and he pressed himself against the bed, staring up at Roderich's eyes in horror. His lips moved frantically in silent pleas to be left alone, but the Austrian kept firm and shut his eyes slowly, bringing up a hand to rest on Gilbert's cheek, wrapping his free hand around one of the other's. _"Edelweiss… Edelweiss_..."

The Prussian's struggles stopped for several seconds as Roderich's soft voice filled the room. Singing wasn't something that the Austrian did often, but his voice was, by no means, bad. Although quiet, the tone was soft and gentle, and soon the random twitches and whimpers died completely as Gilbert listened in silence to the other's singing. Each word seemed to echo through the albino's mind, memories dancing across his eyes as his mind slowly drifted back to an earlier time when the same voice lulled him to sleep with the familiar tune.

_"...bloom and grow forever… Edelweiss, Edelweiss… Bless my homeland forever…"_ As he finished, Roderich slowly opened his eyes and peered down at Gilbert uneasily, worried that his plan hadn't worked. Silence passed between the pair for several moments before the albino seemed to relax, eying the brunette as if he weren't entirely sure about what he was seeing.

"…Roderich?"

Relief crashed over the Austrian like a wave on the sand and a small, gentle smile slowly graced his features. It had worked; countless memories of singing the sweet song in his music room as he played along while Gilbert watched had proved its purpose. It was odd, really, how a song that had little to do with the albino himself had become something of a "secret" between them. Since they were children, when one had needed comfort, the other would start singing it, be it with an instrument or otherwise, and since then it had become habit of anything else. Whether it was because they were both to stubborn to admit the other was a friend they cared about, or simply because they didn't know how to otherwise express their concern, it was something that only they did for one another. As ridiculous as it had seemed before, Roderich was suddenly grateful they'd started doing it.

"Correct," he mumbled in a quiet tone, brushing several strands of silver out of the Prussian's eyes. "You fool; I've been here the entire time. Don't you know it's rude to scream at a guest who has come such a long way to see you?"

"Manners were… never really my thing… were they?" Gilbert retorted in a raspy tone, earning another small smile of relief from the brunette.

"I can see that even in your bed-ridden state that witty mouth of yours is working just fine."

"Nothing can stop… the awesome me." Gilbert grinned weakly, but the smile didn't reach his crimson eyes as it normally would; it looked forced and dead.

Sighing softly, Roderich brought a hand up to cup Gilbert's cheek, gently stroking the side of the albino's face with a sad smile. "Do you… know what day it is?" he asked softly, pausing in his movements as he waited for an answer.

"Day…?" Gilbert frowned and shook his head slowly. "Fuck if… I know. Tuesday?"

"I meant the date…"

"I haven't… seen a calendar in almost thirty years," the Prussian muttered dully. "I still don't… know what the… date was when that damn wall… opened and I was able to come… home…"

"It's the eighteenth of January," Roderich provided gently, "that's good news, isn't it?"

Gilbert blinked slowly, coughing harshly before he shifted his gaze toward the ceiling and furrowed his eyebrows as if trying to remember something he couldn't quite figure out. He sighed shortly after and shook his head, raising an eyebrow in silent question as if to ask the musician why the date was suddenly so important. The confused look Roderich saw reflected in crimson eyes made his stomach drop several inches. "Gilbert it… it's your birthday."

The Prussian inclined his head to the side, eyes widening in faint surprise as he took the information in. He hadn't had a birthday in a long time, and the date had simply molded together with the rest as "one more day" that he was stuck with his Russian captor. "...I forgot."

Violet eyes widened in a mix of shock and horror as bile rose in the back of Roderich's throat. Usually, it was _Gilbert_ who put a great deal of effort into everyone he could think of (as well as random strangers) knew that it was his birthday. He would party for hours on end and drink more beer than should have been humanly possible for anyone (even a nation) until he collapsed in the middle of either Ludwig's or his own living room, ready to repeat the process in the morning. Sometimes the ridiculous enthusiasm would continue for up to a week's time, and every few years, longer than that. To even consider that the Prussian had completely forgotten what today was caused something inside Roderich to shatter painfully. "I didn't…" he said in a quiet tone. _Not once, not even while you were gone. Would you laugh if I told you I made a cake that was never eaten each year?_

Standing up, Roderich glanced toward the doorway of the bedroom with a thoughtful look on his face. To his knowledge, Ludwig was downstairs in the study catching up on paperwork that he missed while taking care of his brother over the past week and he'd been there since early that morning. "He could probably use a break, too…" He glanced at Gilbert on the bed who was giving the Austrian a questioning look. "Just wait here… I have something you should enjoy."

Gilbert opened his mouth to protest, but Roderich was already out the door and shutting it behind him. He stared blankly at the door, eyebrows slowly knitting together as he tried to figure out what had just happened. The sound of movement and muffled voices could be heard downstairs, but it was too faint to make anything of use. He could make out the tone of his brother's voice, much deeper and louder than Roderich's, but they were speaking in rapid German, and his exhausted mind couldn't keep up with what was being said. _What are they…?_

A few minutes later, the door to his room opened again and Ludwig stepped inside, looking tired and in great need of a nap, but happier than he had been over the past week none-the-less. He greeted the Prussian with a nod and settled himself in a seat beside the bed, silently helping Gilbert into a sitting position before turning back to face the doorway.

"West…?"

"Roderich will be up in a few minutes."

Gilbert blinked, frowning slightly as he tried to figure out why Ludwig felt the need to tell him that. Of course, he would have much preferred having the brunette in the room, but his brother couldn't have possibly known that. He took extra care, even in his weakened state, to ensure that his desire to see the other wasn't obvious to everyone else. The German, however, seemed to sense the silverette's growing confusion and smiled faintly, shaking his head. "I'll never understand the strange connection you two seem to have…"

Blushing faintly, the Prussian opened his mouth to protest that he had no connection with Roderich what-so-ever beyond a good rival and someone to annoy when the brunette in question walked in the room, carrying what appeared to be a pale yellow cake in his hands. The words died in the albino's throat and he could only stare, disbelief shooting through his veins.

"A birthday shouldn't pass without cake," Roderich murmured, taking the second seat beside the bed, producing two forks from his pocket and offering one to Ludwig who took it with a small nod. "It isn't much, and hardly sufficient enough to make up for all the drinking binges in my living room that you missed and seem to take so much pleasure in, but…" he paused, hesitating before extracting a bite of cake with the fork in his hand and holding it near Gilbert's lips. "...This is better than nothing, is it not?"

"You… made this?" Gilbert asked quietly, peering down at the forkful of shortcake being offered to him.

Roderich nodded, poking the Prussian's lip lightly with the utensil in an attempt to urge him to open his mouth. "I did, last night. It's simply shortcake with a little whip-cream. I didn't think your stomach would be able to handle anything much heavier than this. Still, it should have enough flavour to give you a taste of something other than broth."

"…You're an idiot," the albino said in a raspy tone before inclining his head forward and taking the offered bite between his lips. True to Roderich's words, the cake was light and fluffy, holding a sweet, but subtle taste that was more than a relief from the salty chicken-water taste he'd grown accustomed to over the past years. The faintest hint of strawberry was mixed in with the whip-cream and he happily opened his mouth, giving Roderich a look that clearly expected more.

"Your manners haven't changed at all…" the Austrian sighed with a small shake of the head. "I'm quite sure a 'please' wouldn't cause you too much pain."

"What about… 'thanks'…?"

Ludwig, who had been reaching for his second bite froze in mid-gesture, staring at Gilbert as if he hadn't quite heard him right. He blinked, raising a blond eyebrow in silent awe as he waited for the silverette to continue. He knew perfectly well that his brother's manners had been little more than passable in most (rather, all) cultures, but his constant scolding had never seemed to work. Yet, there Gilbert was, looking Roderich right in the eye with a small smile.

"I'm… sorry?"

"I said, _thanks," _Gilbert repeated, sounding faintly irked that the brunette hadn't understood him the first time. "…For the cake… and… remembering."

There was a slight pause and everything in the room seemed to go perfectly still. Ludwig's fork was still halfway to the cake and no one said anything until several minutes later when Roderich seemed to dub the Prussian's words genuine and offered the albino a small smile in return. "You're welcome, Gilbert," he said and brought another bite to the pale nation's lips. "Happy birthday…" _Let us hope that the rest will be able to be spent just like this one; perhaps with much happier conditions… but together. Just like we used to… Even if that entails you downing beer until you're a drunken mess beside my piano._


	10. Chapter Nine

SO! Here is the next chapter. Yaaaaaay! Much faster upload than the last, and in hopes of making up for my last delayed update, this one was 18 pages long (in size 12 text, anyway.) Still, much longer than the other chapters and hopefully of decent quality. A lot happens here, but at the same time it's building up to other stuffs. I do apologize for taking a while to upload this, but the horror known as college is still growling evilly at me and doing that unfair thing where it takes up my time.

Also, everyone should spam **_BreatheInEMinor_** with PM's because it's her fault that I didn't upload faster. Bl She was a meanie-face and I delayed the upload for an entire week. (Hurrhurr... Just kidding, Jen-face. I luff you... somewhere deep, deep, down in the cockles of my heart.)

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**aoi-akai:** I am trying to avoid the mushy stuff in this story, but everything needs a little fluff in it. Hopefully I won't go overboard or anything... Still, I'm glad you enjoyed that chapter so much. I never expected to write one that would merit enough quality to be a favourite. A lot of people seemed to be pleased with Vash's appearance, which pleases me a lot. And yes, Gilbert is getting a bit better, as for evil... um, well... Teehee. You'll have to read and see.

**Yuko6754:** I still feel bad for making people wait so long... Life was busy and my poor BETA was probably really busy as well. Don't feel bad about pointing out the typo to me, I'm not surprised that there are a few in there. I just hope they aren't bad enough that they ruin the story for people. I'm glad you enjoyed Vash's appearance as well.

**PinkPanther123:** It's good to know I'm not the only one who nerds out when she sees she has readers from another country. I don't know why it makes me so happy, but I just think it's -awesome- I can write something that reaches people in a place so far away. Why? I really... don't know. It's just something that makes me feel as if I do have talent. ...God, that sounded horrible. Thank you so much for your review.

**BreatheInEMinor:** Ahahaha... Oh you. I told you I'd delay the updating of this story. Kesesesesesese, I'm just evil like that. Anywho.. thanks for actually dropping a review instead of gushing to me online. -snicker- I'll be sure to pester you later online and-Oh. You've just texted me.

**Gaarahottie:** I think my friend would really like your penname, honestly. Thanks for dropping a review and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

**SarcasticProcrastinator-AMLF:** I really... don't know if it was all that beautiful or wonderful, but thank you very much.

**Insanity Is Iminent: **Ahaha, yes, Sound of Music. I really, really love that movie... and the mental image is simply adorable. Also, your icon is AMAZING. I approve.

**fakescorpion:** I believe that people call her "Meimei" a lot, but as that simply means "little sister", it doesn't seem a fair name. Though it is only fanon at this point. Still, a reader in Taiwan... awesome. Thank you for your kind words and review. I really always feel nervous writing Austria, as I'm used to Prussia, but it's good to know I can pull it off.

**Naomi Hansen:** ...D-did I really... ruin the Hetalia fandom for you that badly? I'm... really sorry. I wanted to update sooner, I did, but... ngh... Thank you for returning a review to me, regardless. It means a lot that you've still held enough interest in my story to keep reading. My best friend would be thrilled to know you're a Germancest fan now, but I really... am sorry that I messed up so badly. I hope that I'll be able to update faster and sooner to give you something that is worthwhile to read if you are still interested.

**mudkiprox:** I didn't make up the date. January 18th is actually Gilbert's birthday, as it was on that day that the "Kingdom of Prussia" was officially formed. While Gilbert himself existed way before then (Teutonic Order) I guess... it's a history thing?

**CielDeMinuit:** There is a decent amount of Gilbert and Roerich in this chapter, so you should enjoy it.

**Victoria Alatamir Wan:** Aiyaaa... So many people seem to be crying. I feel bad for making you all do so... but I really hope it's the happier kind of tears. Thank you for your review.

**PurpleLeopard: **Aw... Of course Roderich would never forget. Gilbert is precious to him, that much is obvious. We tend not to forget that which matters to the most precious people in our lives.

**Under the Apfelbaum:** Mmm... I'm not sure if you're reviewed before either. My memory is good, but alas, I cannot remember every penname to leave me kind words. Still, thank you for yours... and thank you for reading **_My Heart's Musician_** as well. It seems my PruAus stories are quickly becoming my most popular of them.

**Erica Anna: **I'm really sorry you had to wait so long. Hopefully this update came quicker for you.

**iFuckingLoveGermans:** Oh gosh... I-it really isn't that good, but thank you.

**: **Oh... my Roderich really isn't perfect, but thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

**LolliDictator:** Oooo! Can you really picture it in your mind that well? Thank you! I'm always so pleased when someone can see what is happening... That really boosts my confidence as a writer.

**Kuroshii:** ...Gosh, I always love reading your reviews, and thank you so much for helping on the bruder vs brüder thing with me and explaining it all. I'm glad we were able to reach a common ground on West/Ost and the lack of bruder use, but now that I'm 100-percent sure that it's alright to use it, I might drop it in every once in a while. I am sorry that "Ost" instead of "Osten" bothered you, but again, I just thought that "Osten" seemed somewhat formal for a nickname (since Prussia uses "West" instead of "Westen.") But... ahahahaha. I'm so glad you enjoyed Vash's random appearance. To be honest, it was my favourite part of the chapter to write. Oh, Vash... You care. You really should just admit it already. But... wow. To think that the story touched you on such an emotional level... I really an honoured. Thank you very much... I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I would have felt bad if I made you cry in a group of people, but... wow. Thank you...

**makuroshi:** I really don't know what it was like for the people who were trapped under the Soviet Union, and I will never pretend I do... but I know it must have been terrible. Still I tried to imagine what it would be like if all that were thrown on one person in a different situation but... yes. Thank you for your review. I'm really pleased to know you like it so much already.

**mochijapan:** Please don't apologize for having limited English, I think you sound just fine. I'm so honoured that you're reading my story even though it isn't your native tongue. So thank you! Really, just leaving a review means so much to me.

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**Chapter Nine**

**January 29th, 1990 **

A soft hitch of raspy snores filled the otherwise silent room as Roderich watched the rise and fall of Gilbert's chest through the blankets. Each inhale was slow, but not as strained as they had been the week previous and the brunette took comfort in that; it meant the albino was getting better. Sweat no longer coated his forehead and body as he struggled with the demons in his dreams, and the previously contorted and pained expressions that would grace his slender face were relaxed and calm. The majority of his dreams were no longer nightmares, and for that Roderich was grateful. He'd been awoken too many times in the middle of the night to Gilbert's hoarse screams as his weakened limbs struggled against the weight of the thick blankets that kept him warm, and to have that stop was a small miracle on its own.

Behind him, the Austrian heard the faint 'click' of the door as it was opened followed by the soft thunk of heavy footsteps. He didn't have to turn around to know who had entered, as there was only one other occupant of house who would enter the room without knocking for fear of interrupting some sort of private moment. "Ludwig…" he greeted quietly, raising one of his hands in a gesture that was meant to be a wave. "Good afternoon."

"Roderich…" the German returned the greeting with a nod, glancing toward the bed to observe Gilbert's sleeping form for several seconds before turning back to the brunette beside it. "How long has he been asleep?"

Roderich sighed and glanced toward the digital clock on the Prussian's bedside table, vaguely trying to remember what numbers he'd seen when Gilbert had first fallen asleep, but the memory wouldn't come and he didn't bother searching for it. With a small shake of his head, he sighed and turned to look at the blond, his own bags quite obvious against his creamy skin. "Almost an hour now," he answered in a soft tone. "He hasn't had the easiest time with sleep, as I'm sure you know."

Ludwig nodded and took the seat beside Roderich, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "He's been sleeping much easier since you've arrived. He could barely rest for more than twenty minutes when he first came back home."

Roderich blinked, turning to gaze at the German in shock as he carefully took in what had been said. "Because of… me?" Ludwig nodded silently in response and waited for the other to continue. "But… I haven't done anything. That is, I am pleased to know I'm able to help, if only by offering my presence, but…"

"I think you're able to help more than you realize by simply watching him. It was you that he cried out for in his sleep."

"I can't imagine why," the Austrian sighed, shifting in his chair to look back at Gilbert once more. "I haven't done anything particularly helpful."

"Hm," Ludwig merely grunted in response, watching his brother breathe for several minutes before allowing himself to speak again. "Was he able to finish his lunch?"

"He finished most of it," Roderich nodded, the faintest hints of pride in his tone. "He still can't stomach much more than the broth, but he's getting much better. He's eating a few more spoonfuls every day."

The blond nodded absently but didn't respond. His sapphire eyes were locked on the albino's pale features, carefully taking in each scrape and bruise that hadn't yet healed. He traced the bandages covering his brother's face with his gaze and felt something in his stomach plummet uncomfortably. "I need… to ask you something…" he hesitated, awkwardly glancing at Roderich as he struggled to piece together what he wanted to say. "That is… I need… a favour. I know I don't ask for them very often, but…"

"Of course," the brunette cut him off. "Anything I can do to help."

Ludwig hesitated, his mouth twisting in a pained expression as he tried to decide what he wanted to say. He knew it needed to be done, but even with his brother lying on the bed in front of him as beaten as he was, pride still poked at the back of his mind; or perhaps it was selfishness. _He_ wanted to be the one to help Gilbert recover, _he_ wanted to be the one who was called for when the Prussian needed help, and _he_ wanted to be at the elder nation's side, sitting in a chair and feeding him broth. It was what he was used to.

Almost all his life, Gilbert had stood at his side, giving him all the affection and attention he could have ever wanted and more. The albino had been the strongest pillar of strength in his life and gone to great lengths to ensure that he, his little brother, had everything he needed to smile. Now, seeing Roderich sitting in the chair closest to the bed with his hand clutching Gilbert's and stroking the back of the albino's with his thumb… he felt jealous. It was wrong, and he knew it, but he couldn't stop.

"I need…" he paused, sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "I need you to go home; back to Austria."

There was a moment of silence as Roderich simply stared, his mouth hanging open slightly as his brain raced to catch up with what the German had just asked. His face twisted into an angry expression as he stood up abruptly, forcing himself to keep quiet. "What are you saying!" he hissed sharply, "You said yourself that he's been sleeping better since I arrived and you're going to take that away from him! Are you out of your mind? I'm not—"

Ludwig stood up as well, holding a hand in the air to stop the flow of protest that was pouring from the Austrian's lips in curious German. "You can't stay here, Roderich… Ivan has already been in the city twice since Gilbert has come home and I can't have you here when that happens. You're the only thing he's reacted positively to since coming home and… and…" he sighed, bowing his head in defeat. "…I want you to take him back with you."

"You… want me to what?" Roderich blinked, taking a step back in surprise. "You want me to take care of him? _Alone? _In _Austria? _I… that is, I'm sure Gilbert would be safe there, as Ivan rarely bothers me in my home, but… Wouldn't he know where to look should he find that Gilbert is not here?"

"Ivan has no reason to be in Vienna," the German said quietly, lowering himself back into his seat. "If he were to go to Austria, then we'd be able to stop him before he could reach you; people would know what, _who,_ he is after. Ivan will be coming to visit the house quite often in the upcoming months, as I'm sure you've heard. The Allies, rather, Alfred and Arthur and perhaps Francis, as well, should be here often enough… though Ivan seems to have made it a habit of visiting as often as possible. Even without reasons." Shifting in his seat, sapphire hues met violet and Ludwig sighed. "…He wants to be with you, Roderich. That much should be obvious. It's _you_ he calls for, not me."

Roderich nodded slowly and turned back to Gilbert, taking the albino's hand gingerly in his own once more. "I don't want Ivan going near him ever again. I realize that is impossible, they will run into each other at some point during meetings, but… Should he find the courage to so much as step one foot into Vienna, I swear I'll remove him myself." He paused, frowning faintly as he looked at Ludwig. "However… perhaps Gilbert might feel a spark of his old self if we stayed somewhere else? Somewhere familiar… Silesia?"

If the situation had been any less serious, Ludwig was sure he would have chuckled. He had heard Roderich and Gilbert shouting at one another many times before over the Austrian's "vital regions" and who had the rights to Silesia for hours on end. It was almost ridiculous listening to them argue; like watching an old married couple fighting over who had been the one to forget to turn off the lights when they went on vacation. "No, Vienna should be fine…" Ludwig said with a shake of his head. "I think it would be better for him. He knows your house well; likely better than he knows my own, and it's obvious… you're the one he needs more right now. The land of Silesia is under the control of Poland right now, anyway. He and Feliks aren't exactly on the best of terms. They get into petty fights for no reason and he doesn't need that stress right now."

Roderich nodded in agreement, finally allowing himself to sit back in the chair he'd been using earlier. "I assume he's quite busy urging Toris out of Ivan's house at the moment."

"Indeed… but if you're worried about Vienna," a small smile graced Ludwig's lips for the first time since the Austrian had arrived at the German's home. "…Perhaps Mariazell."

As if on impulse, Roderich's hand flew up to cover the gravity-defying stands of air atop his head. His cheeks darkened with an embarrassed flush that made Ludwig's smile grow larger still. Of all the people the Austrian knew, the German was the last he ever expected a joke from, let alone one that sounded so approving of his brother's teasing methods. Yet, despite the embarrassment he felt, he couldn't help but take the tease as a good sign. At least Ludwig was starting to return to his old self again. "Do you think he is well enough to travel? Train would be the fastest and easiest method for him right now, especially if we are moving some of his things, but…"

"He's as good as he'll get for the amount of time we have. I want to get him out of Berlin tonight. Ivan is supposed to come over again tomorrow."

Roderich nodded, accepting the answer and shifting his focus back to Gilbert. The Prussian was, thankfully, still asleep. It had to have been the longest nap he'd ever seen the albino take since his return. Normally, he might have been concerned, but the gentle rise and fall of his chest and sounds of breathing kept the Austrian calm.

"Roderich?"

"…Hm?" the brunette blinked, but didn't turn. There was a new hesitance in Ludwig's voice, as if the German didn't really know what it was he was saying.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course," he nodded. "Please."

"I know… that your lack of presence at the wall wasn't your fault. Your manager told me about the tour when I was finally able to contact you. The fact that you left in the middle of it really says something; I know you wouldn't do that without a good reason. Still…" he paused, running a hand through his light hair as he worked to piece together his words in a way that wouldn't offend. "You… and my brother don't always see eye-to-eye. At least, you don't act as if you're ever happy to be around each other, but… at the same time, I can't help but wonder…" he paused again, hardening his gaze on the side of Roderich's head. "…Who, _what_, is my brother to you?"

The Austrian tensed, feeling a sudden chill run down his spine. He'd been hoping to avoid questions of the like, but it didn't seem as if luck was smiling on him today. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, giving the Prussian an uneasy look as he tried to piece together an answer. In truth, he wasn't completely sure if he knew the answer himself, but before he could give the question much thought, his mouth had opened and the words were coming out before he could think about them. "…We have not been rivals with each other for some time; we never choose to be in the first place. It was simply… bad luck, in a sense. We happened to find ourselves with leaders who were more interested in taking over one another rather than forming a proper alliance. It was… easier to tell yourself that you were fighting an enemy rather… than a friend," he sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin in his free palm. "After we stopped being enemies… we had no reason to hate each other. I don't think we ever did… We just said it to avoid the pain that came with fighting someone you cared about. We… became allies, I suppose. If that's what it could be called. He would come to my house without being invited to annoy me and demand ridiculous things, but… I didn't realise until he wasn't there anymore… that I didn't mind his presence as much as I appeared to. At least… when he came to the house… neither of us were alone…"

Sighing, the brunette chuckled weakly and shook his head. Nothing he'd just said made any sense to him, but he had still said it. Part of him felt as if the explanation had been an attempt to explain it to himself rather than just the German beside him, but as for the reasoning, he found none. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't really answer your question, did I?"

"Nein," Ludwig shook his head with a small smile. "You answered it just fine. I believe I've gotten the answer I was looking for… or at least, something close to it." He leaned over the bed, carefully pulling the covers back over Gilbert's slender form as the Prussian shifted in his sleep. "His wheelchair is downstairs; I'll send that with you to make it easier for you two to move around. There is a cane as well, for when he is able to walk around on his own without extra help, and a walker for helping him train. They all fold up and store easily."

Roderich nodded slowly, glancing around the room where they sat, a small frown tugging at his lips. "And his things…?"

"All he owns is in this room…" the blond muttered in a sad tone. "Most of it was taken or sold when he was forced to leave with Ivan. My bosses were desperate for money, and Gilbert meant little to them. It hardly matters that he is East Germany now. They couldn't have cared less. He still has spare clothes, but aside from that and his birds…"

"I have a feeling the birds would manage to move on their own regardless of where he went," the Austrian said in a light tone, hoping to lower some of the overwhelmingly depressive aura that had fallen over the room. "They're quite good at finding him no matter where he is."

"True," the German smiled faintly and stood up, moving toward the door. "I've never really understood them, but… he seems to enjoy having them around."

Roderich nodded.

"…I'm going to gather the things he'll need to move together. Call me if he wakes and we'll explain what's going on. I'd like to get him on a train before dinner."

* * *

A deep orange glow filled the recently occupied spare bedroom of Roderich's manor in Vienna from a roaring fire that had been started in the fireplaces only minutes ago. The curtains of the window had been drawn tightly shut, and a towel placed in front of the crack between sill and window in hopes of blocking any hidden breezes of winter air and keeping out the vision of snow hidden beyond the glass. Tired crimson eyes followed the brunette figure darting around the room from the bed, and an exasperated sigh escaped pale lips before Gilbert finally spoke. "You don't have to do all this, you know…" he frowned, watching as yet another curtain was tugged shut. "…M'not a little kid… with some deadly virus… I can… take a little breeze…"

"I don't recall saying that I was doing this for you," Roderich muttered smoothly, locking the final window of the room and placing a towel he'd folded over his arm at the base before pulling the curtains shut. "I'm… doing this to keep the woodwork safe." The brunette winced as soon as he'd said it; the lie was terrible and he knew it. The scoff from Gilbert proved the Prussian knew it, too.

"Yeah," the Prussian mumbled with a weak cough and roll of his eyes, "Dry that one out… and you could fertilize... that garden of yours…"

"Must you persist with that sarcasm of yours? You could be looking at Death himself and I'm quite sure you'd still attempt to insult him or claim his 'vital regions'…" the Austrian growled and crossed his arms, but internally, he was relieved to hear the Prussian's witty remarks. As small as it was, he was able to take some comfort in the normalcy that came with Gilbert's sharp tongue.

Gilbert grinned in response, giving a slight shrug of his good shoulder. "West says it's the first time… he's been glad to hear my use… of sarcasm…"

"I can only imagine why," Roderich sighed, crossing the room to fill a glass of water from a pitcher that was sitting on the bedside table, holding it near the albino's lips. "Drink."

Raising an eyebrow, the Prussian gave his host a blank look. He was lying flat on his back in the bed with covers too heavy for him to lift up to his chin. He was still barely able to sit up without help, and having the water spill down his front wasn't appealing in the slightest. "Unless you have a straw," he started quietly, trying to force another amused smile, "you're going to have to help the awesome me sit up."

Flushing lightly in embarrassment, Roderich set the glass down and bent forward, carefully pulling the covers back to wrap an arm around the Prussian's shoulders and extend his other forward as a brace for Gilbert to hold. It took several minutes, but between the two of them, they managed to get the albino into a sitting position that wasn't painful without tugging or ripping any of his stitches. Roderich brought the glass back to the albino's lips, gently cupping Gilbert's pale cheek to steady his face. "…Is there anything else you want?" the Austrian asked quietly as he set the cup aside.

"M'fine," Gilbert mumbled, bringing a hand up to cradle Roderich's against his face. "Just… stay here."

A faint smile graced Roderich's lips as he set the glass down and reluctantly pulled his hand away from Gilbert's grasp in favour of moving a chair closer to the bed to sit in. The Prussian watched him in amused silence, fighting back the urge to make a quip about his surprise at how easily the brunette was able to move one of the large plush chairs in the room without the help of another. However, the tease died in his throat as the back of the Austrian's hand was pressed to his forehead, and he could feel himself unconsciously leaning toward the warmth it provided.

"You haven't been feverish in some time now…" he smiled, clearly pleased with the news. "That's good."

Snorting, Gilbert shrugged and shut his eyes, sighing in content as Roderich turned his hand around to rest his palm on the albino's forehead rather than the back of his hand. "Awesome doesn't get sick," he protested with another small cough. "…and if it does, it heals fast. Nothing can keep the awesome me down for long."

Roderich scoffed and raised a slender eyebrow, giving the silverette a sarcastic look as he responded in a dry tone. "Well, thank heavens for 'awesome', then. Does the 'awesome' need anything else to make him happy?"

Opening his eyes, the Prussian glanced over at Roderich, blinking slowly before nodding his head. "Ja, there's one thing."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Stay with me tonight," the look on the albnio's pale features turned unnaturally serious. "…all night."

With a faint flinch, Roderich drew back in surprise, his violet eyes widening as he spoke. "I… C-certainly, but… why?"

Silence was the Austrian's only response for several minutes. Gilbert's gaze had shifted toward the covers, and his pale fingers clenched tightly around the fabric, making the brunette wince at how painful the muscle-strain must have been. Whatever the reason, it seemed important and was causing the albino a decent amount of stress, but nothing could have prepared him for the response he got.

"…To prove this is real."

"I…" Roderich frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to figure out what exactly that meant. He couldn't remember a time he'd seen the Prussian so weak and vulnerable before. It was like looking at a skeleton of the man he once was, and every glance seemed to kill him a little more internally. Had it not been for the fact that Gilbert was talking so much like his normal self, Roderich was sure he wouldn't have been able to act so calm about the entire ordeal. "Very well, but…" he trailed off, unsure of how to ask what he wanted to know.

"…Ivan used to screw with my mind all the time," the ex-nation started, sensing the question that was left in the air unanswered. "I'll admit it, behind the wall, my mind was gone. I couldn't think right, and he used that against me. I wanted to _die_ and he knew it… He pretended to be you so many times. And West… I don't know how… ahaha... but you'd always be gone in the morning. Just when I started to believe that everything was alright and I was home again… he'd turn it around."

As Gilbert finished explaining, the Austrian nation felt something twist violently in his stomach and he was forced to ball his fists to stop from shouting. His violet eyes darkened, flashing dangerously with the anger he could feel building in his chest, but he forced his tone to remain calm as he spoke and placed his trembling fists in his lap. "That… _animal_. That Soviet… b-bastard…" he struggled, taking in a shallow breath before continuing. "He… will _never_ touch you again; I'll make sure of it. I don't care what it takes… I'll be here each and every time you wake up. Alw—" A dark blush spread across the musician's cheeks as he suddenly stopped, realizing where his short speech was leading. His pulse quickened, causing a sudden sensation that felt as if his heart were rising in his chest. He couldn't afford to be talking like that, not right now. Gilbert was edgy enough as it was and he didn't want to give the Prussian a reason not to be around him. "Well, I'll be here whenever you want me to be, anyway."

Laughing quietly, the albino nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as he tried to show he believed in Roderich's words despite the lack of history to back them up. "Ja… I'm sure your _intimidating_ Chopin will keep him far, far away and trembling in fear." Ignoring the offended look on the Austrian's face, he leaned forward, gingerly placing one of his own frail hands over the other's trembling ones and gave it a light squeeze in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. His hand was pushed aside as the brunette leaned forward, taking Gilbert's face between both his hands and forcing crimson irises to meet violet. "Gilbert… I don't care if I have to goad him into attacking my people to rally the rest of Europe in my aid. Do you understand me?"

A light blush dusted Gilbert's face as he listened to Roderich's speech, and in the back of his mind, he prayed that it would be mistaken for a fever they both knew he didn't have. Happily for him, the Austrian seemed to have his own fair share of embarrassment from his second outburst of the night and he pulled his hands away quickly, bringing them to rest awkwardly in his lap again. "I-in any case…"

"You'll be here in the morning, ja?" the albino asked suddenly, trying to break the tension in the air before it could form. "You need to sleep, too. No need to be a priss about it, we've shared a bed before."

Raising an eyebrow, Roderich snorted, covering the 'undignified' noise with a light chuckle. "Not always willingly, but… yes, I suppose we have." He smiled lightly and inclined his head to the side, "At least my Vital Regions are safe for the time being, yes?"

"_Safe?_" Gilbert repeated, a loud laugh that resulted in a harsh coughing fit tumbling from his lips. The Austrian jumped and reached for the glass of water, but the albino waved it away with a tired hand and grinned, amused at the other's statement. "Ja, maybe… I'll try to be a good boy, but why would I claim something I already own?" He coughed again with a wince, but the smile returned to his face nonetheless.

It was obvious that the brunette was trying to scowl at the albino's views on his 'vital regions' but it was a lost battle and Roderich found himself chuckling along with the other nation, internally relieved that he was still able to laugh, even if it was painful to hear how much weaker it was now compared to how it used to be. "Is there anything else I could get for you while I'm feeling so generous?"

Shaking his head, the Prussian finally calmed himself down, trying to calm the sudden tightness that had formed in his chest from laughing so much. "Nah… Pancakes would be pretty awesome, but I like them going down, not coming up. I can barely hold the shit in the soup right now… so just lie down already. I'm cold, and you're pretty warm."

"How you can be so demanding even in your condition astounds me…" Roderich muttered, bending down to untie his boots before carefully pulling them off and placing them beside the chair, shortly followed by his coat which he folded carefully and set aside with his cravat nearly stored in one of the pockets. "Yet at the same time, I'm not surprised that it is your mouth which seems to have recovered first."

"You could always say no…" Gilbert pointed out as the Austrian gingerly lifted the blankets and obediently crawled into the bed and settled down, much to the albino's surprise. "You're the one who's listening to me."

"…I promised your brother I would take care of you," Roderich reasoned weakly, adjusting one of the pillows to make it more comfortable. "And I'd much rather not deal with your constant complaining. This is the easiest way to make you be silent."

"Yeah, sure…" the albino smirked. "Keep telling yourself that, Roddy. You just can't resist the awesome that is me, just admit it already and save yourself the embarrassment."

"I can see that your ego wasn't damaged at all. How fortunate." Roderich muttered sarcastically, gently pulling Gilbert's head down to rest on his chest, only realizing how intimate the gesture likely came off as after he'd done it. However, the albino didn't protest and slipped his arms around the brunette's waist lazily, happily taking in the offered warmth of another living being that felt so nice compared to the harsh treatments he'd gotten from Ivan. Why he felt so comfortable around the Austrian compared to others, he didn't know, but he didn't question his body's instincts and simply took it as it was.

"You… love it," he muttered sleepily, not bothering to think of sarcastic comeback.

"Whatever thoughts will help you sleep," Roderich shook his head, feeling a small frown tug at his lips as he realized how cold Gilbert's body felt against his own. "You'll be running around my house and interrupting my piano sessions before I know it. I'm simply enjoying the peace while I can."

"…Ja, m'sure. You miss my awesomeness running around."

Keeping quiet, the Austrian didn't bother to respond, waiting until he was sure Gilbert was asleep to allow himself a silent reply. _More than you know, Gilbert… Annoying or not, I don't care… I just want the you I grew up with and used to know back. _

* * *

A loud knock pulled Roderich from his thoughts as he stared at Gilbert's sleeping form. The small yellow chick snuggled into the albino's silver hair peeped sleepily and ruffled it's feathers, ignoring the sound in its tired state and earned a silent chuckle of amusement from the brunette. His gaze snapped toward the curtain drawn window and frowned, wondering who would be at his door so early in the afternoon. He hadn't been expecting guests, nor had he received a call alerting him of someone else's visit. His first thought had been Ludwig, but the blond was supposed to be busy with Alfred for the rest of the week-Not to mention the spontaneous visits from Feliciano that seemed to be occurring more often as of late, and the decreasing number of days between them was starting to make the musician suspicious as to just what happened during them.

Standing up, the brunette made his way downstairs and toward the door as he brushed a hand absently through his hair to straighten the knotted mess he had yet to take a comb to. Normally, he wouldn't have dared allow himself to answer the door in such a disapproving state—as he was only wearing slacks and a baggy white dress shirt with a loosely tied cravat—but he had taken an uncharacteristic need to be at Gilbert's side as often as possible and only spent minimal time away from the Prussian's bedside. Which brought him to his current problem; getting rid of whomever was at the door as quickly as possible.

"Good morning," Roderich said as he pulled the door open. "How can I help… you…?" Violet eyes blinked rapidly behind glass frames as the Austrian was met with little more than the sight of what appeared to be a floating basket of flowers. Raising an eyebrow, he leaned sideways to peer at the basket, spotting a small mountain fruit and other foods, the vast majority of which appeared to somehow involve… tomatoes? "What the…?"

"Buenos días, Roderich!" A tanned and smiling face suddenly popped out from behind the mass of flowers and food, making Roderich take several steps back in surprise. "¡Tanto tiempo sin verte! How have you been?"

"I, ah…" the brunette blinked, staring at his sudden visitor dumbstruck. "A-Antonio, this is… unexpected."

"Lo siento…" Antonio said sheepishly, adjusting the large bundle in his arms to better look at the musician before him. "I was going to call before I came, but Lovi was using it to talk to Feliciano and I couldn't ask him to stop the conversation—he's only just started talking to him again for staying the night at Ludwig's house. I don't know why Lovi was so upset… I guess he missed his brother more than I thought. I'm thinking of inviting Feli over to the house more so they can play."

"That's… lovely," Roderich muttered, exhaling slowly as he silently reminded himself to be polite. Antonio hadn't done anything wrong, and at the very least, the brunette was simply trying to be friendly. "I'm sorry to cut you off, but I'm rather preoccupied at the moment and—"

"Oh?" Antonio blinked, tilting his head to the side. "Are you finally playing the piano again? ¡Que bueno! I've love to hear you play sometime. I haven't heard your music in years…"

The Austrian winced; the Spaniard's obliviousness truly knew no bounds. "Actually, I was just about to prepare Gilbert's lunch and—"

"Oh!" Emerald eyes brightened as Antonio adjusted the load in his arms and leaned forward, pushing the various stems of flowers that blocked his vision out of the way with his nose. "Speaking of Gilbert, that is why I'm here! Feliciano heard from Ludwig that he had been moved here. So, I thought I would come see how he was doing—and it looks like Feliciano was right!"

Hesitating, Roderich leaned against the doorframe and regarded the other brunette with an uneasy look. He knew how easy it was for Gilbert to get riled up near his friends, especially when it was Antonio or Francis. The three of them always seemed to have a knack for getting into trouble, even if they were doing something as simple as sitting in a room together, and the brunette suddenly found himself feeling a rush of gratitude toward the Prussian's quieter friend who seemed to be the cause of his pancake obsession—though he could not remember the boy's name. Part of him wished that it had been that person at the door; at least he wouldn't have had to worry about noise or the albino straining himself. "He's sleeping right now," he began in what he hoped was a sincere tone. "I'm not sure that having guests right now would be the best for him."

At the other's words, Antonio's shoulders slumped as his smile dampened slightly, but no more than a few seconds later he jumped right back and gave the bundle in his arms a small shake. "I brought this for him," he said cheerfully. "Flowers and food… lots of gifts that should make him feel happy—Oh! There are things for you, too! A thank you for watching over him."

"Ah, thank you…" the musician murmured, taking the basket as it was pushed into his grasp. "I will let Gilbert know you stopped by and show him this later, then. I just… don't want to wake him up right now."

Pursing his lips, the Spaniard stepped forward, desperate to see Gilbert. The only news he'd gotten about the Prussian was through the grape vine and the vague statements he was able to make out from Feliciano's exited ramblings about what he'd done at Ludwig's house when he finally did return home to see his brother. Combined with trying to decipher what the younger was saying through Lovino's frustrated shouts made it difficult to rely on any of the information. Thus, he had decided coming on his own was the best option. It had been years since he'd seen his albino friend, and he had missed the other dearly. "Por favor…" he said quietly, pressing his hands together. "I promise that I can be quiet! Quieter than a mouse!"

"Antonio…" Roderich sighed heavily and tried to adjust his grip on the basket. It was quite heavy, and he could only imagine what was buried beneath the flowers and various tomatoes that sat on the top layer. Knowing the brunette, it could have been absolutely anything, but the question of its contents wasn't important right now. The look Antonio was giving him was almost painful with desperation, and it made his stomach turn with guilt at the idea of saying 'no'. Between the tomato-loving brunette and Francis, the Spaniard was definitely the quieter of the two. If anything, seeing Gilbert and Antonio together could be described as "cute"; they acted more like brothers than Ludwig and Gilbert at times, and always seemed so affectionate with one another—though there never seemed to be anything romantic about it. The musician had a feeling that Lovino would have been following closely after his Spaniard "caretaker" if there had been any chances of that. "Very well, come in…" he finally caved, stepping aside as a delighted Antonio hurried through the doorway and took the basket back from the musician in favour of setting it down on a table in the hallway.

"…So," the Spaniard began quietly, looking at Roderich with a wide-eyed expression of worried innocence that reminded Roderich of a child. "…how bad off is he?"

The brunette sighed, bringing up a hand to fumble with is half-heartedly tied cravat, suddenly feeling underdressed and far less official than he should have. He wasn't good at dealing with people on a personal level, not for something like that; at least, not anyone who wasn't Elizaveta, Ludwig, or the very person he was being asked about. Antonio was so kind-hearted and often oblivious to the point of innocence that could have rivaled Feliciano. He really didn't want to be the one to tell the other his best friend was still lingering near death's doorstep. "He's still recovering," he started, tugging the white fabric around his neck tightly before undoing it and starting again, waiting until it was perfected before he continued. "Most of his body is still heavily bandaged, and his left eye is still being kept covered—the right is bruised, but not nearly as bad—and he cannot eat much without assistance." Roderich paused, wincing at the wide-eyed expression of faint horror he was being given. "However, he is much better than when he first arrived. Progress is slow, but he is recovering, and that is what is important."

Antonio nodded slowly, his gaze locked somewhere in the empty space over Roderich's shoulder. He seemed to be lost, thinking through something hard and complicated that made his features twist momentarily as he tried to even his thoughts out. The musician couldn't blame him; he and Gilbert had been the best of friends for a very long time, and he could only imagine how hard it must have been on the Spaniard. Roderich had never been fond of the idea of letting people know that he cared about the Prussian more than he let on—he seldom admitted it even to himself—but for someone who had spent days on end with the other, simply having fun and doing what they did, this must have been confusing. At the meeting that had decided Gilbert's fate, it had been Francis who was the only one to speak against what was happening, despite what his leaders had thought about the matter, while Antonio had remained quietly in the corner looking very ill at the entire idea. Even Romano had been quiet that day, sitting beside the Spaniard with a pout and glare focused on the table with his arms crossed, refusing to say anything in what the brunette had assumed was an attempt to avoid saying something to upset the other more.

"Can… I see him?" the tomato-lover asked quietly, giving Roderich a hopeful look. "I promise I really will be careful. I won't say anything to him if he's sleeping, and if he wakes up, I'll whisper, and…" he stopped as Roderich held a hand up to silence him, offering the Spaniard a small smile.

"I'm sure it would be good for him to see an old friend," the musician mused, "It's been a while since his brother has come to visit, anyway. A new face would be… refreshing." Gesturing toward the stairs, the Austrian moved past Antonio who eagerly fell into step behind him, eyes wide as they darted all around the hallway, trying to guess which door Gilbert was behind. What the Spaniard didn't expect was to be taken to the room just next door to Roderich's. Of course the Prussian likely needed constant care, but the fact that Roderich had taken to keeping him so close was surprising. To Antonio's knowledge, the room had been a place of rest for his leaders whenever they were required to stay at his house. The last person to stay in there had been…

"I'm going to go place your flowers in water," Roderich said, cutting Antonio's wandering thoughts off before they could finish. "I'll come upstairs and check on you both when I've finished and prepared Gilbert's lunch." Stepping to the side, he nodded toward the door and offered Antonio a small, but comforting smile. "…He really is doing better, don't forget that much, for your sake."

Blinking, Antonio smiled and nodded, reaching for the door with a small sound of joy. He couldn't understand why Roderich seemed so insistent on telling him that Gilbert was "getting better"; after all, this was _Gilbert_. The Spaniard had never known the albino for being down for too long, even when injured, and suspected that the musician was simply being dramatic; he'd always had a habit of being that way. He was quite sure that the Prussian was just fine, and still a little tired, nothing more. Nodding to himself, he pushed the door open with a wide smile, half-expecting to hear his friend shout out a greeting as he always would and not at all be asleep like his Austrian caretaker had likely ordered him to be.

What he saw, however, made the Spaniard stop dead in the doorway as his breath hitched sharply. Whatever he had been expecting was staring back at him ten-fold, and part of him was convinced that the figure in the bed across the room could not have been his best friend. Alas, the silver hair and pale-white skin were unmistakable, and Antonio found himself slinking forward slowly as his mind raced to catch up with the sight before him.

The silver hair that normally fell around Gilbert's face in a way that was both messy and neat at the same time was longer than normal, but lacked its usual luster. Choppy bangs falling haphazardly over his left eye, which was covered with an eye-patch style bandage that hooked across both his ears by elastic strings and a patch of gauze had been taped to his cheek, covering majority of the right side of his face and part of his chin. The buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing bandages that wrapped downward from his neck and obscured majority of his chest, a faint hue of red visible against the white fabric where blood had attempted to bleed through, while his right arm was covered with gauze from the tips of his fingers up into the sleeve. His left wrist was braced in a thick cotton wrap, but other than that, all bandages had been removed and the Spaniard didn't even want to imagine the condition of the Prussian's legs.

As Antonio lowered himself into the empty seat beside the bed, his stomach twisted violently at the idea of how bad Gilbert must have looked when he first returned home. There had been many times in his life when he saw the albino get injured or bed-ridden, but they seemed so small compared to now. The Prussian had done nothing to deserve the treatment he received from Ivan, nor had he fought his so-called "punishment". Just looking at his fallen friend's condition made a feeling swirl inside the Spaniard's chest that he hadn't felt since his days during the Inquisition. A nasty, dark hate for the Russian filled him that spread throughout his body as a voice he hadn't heard in years began to whisper things in the back of his head. So many different methods of revenge shot through his mind all at once, but all it took was a raspy cough from Gilbert's slumbering form to jerk him back into reality and banish the thoughts to the back of his mind.

Shaking his head, Antonio smiled softly and reached out for the albino's hand and brushed his thumb over the back of the pale appendage. It felt cold, much to the brunette's distaste; far colder than he could remember it being, and that worried him. But the smile never left his face as he retracted his hands to his lap and waited, watching Gilbert in silence. The lack of movement and sickly pale skin made it hard to believe that the Prussian was still alive at all, and it was only the subtle rise and fall of Gilbert's bandaged chest that kept him from believing otherwise. There was only so much he was able to shove away so quickly, and even his optimism had its limits.

"Ngh…"

Jumping, the Spaniard leaned forward, gazing at Gilbert in hopeful awe as he watched the albino shift in his sleep, eyelids fluttering. It was difficult to tell if he was dreaming or starting to wake up, but checking was out of the question. He had promised Roderich that he would keep quiet as long as the Prussian was asleep. That meant no speaking unless spoken to.

"Nn…" Gilbert shifted again, turning his head toward the chair. "Roddy…? S'too early for…ngh… fuck…"

"Roderich is downstairs, mi amigo…" Antonio said quietly, "I think he said he was making you soup."

Frowning, the Prussian's eyes slid open slowly and blinked blearily, giving the Spaniard a blank look while his mind pulled itself from the depths of sleep. It took several minutes, but as soon as the crimson gaze was able to hold its focus, a tired, but pleased grin spread over the albino's face. "Antonio…!" Grunting, Gilbert tried to push himself into a sitting position to better greet his old friend, but the brunette leaned forward quickly and pushed him back against the pillows and shook his head.

"Lo siento, Gilbert, pero… he doesn't want you overdoing it. I promised him that I would be quiet and whisper… If he comes upstairs and sees you sitting up, he might make me leave and Lovi said that I couldn't come back to the house for a few hours if I came to see you." Antonio smiled brightly, and pressed his hands together. "He wants to make sure I get to spend time with you."

"…Ja, I'm sure that's it," the silverette chuckled softly. "He wants you to spend more time with me."

Nodding, the Spaniard beamed. "Isn't he thoughtful?"

_Something like that… _Gilbert thought quietly, nodding slowly in response as he listened to the brunette's whispered ramble about how "cute" Lovino could be. While he'd only met the older Italian brother a few times, he was far from anything that Gilbert would consider "cute", but it was good to see that the Spaniard hadn't change much in the time he was gone. The thought comforted him and gave some reassurance that he hadn't disappeared and suddenly come back to a place where everything had changed and he was out of his league. "Hey… how did you get in here, anyway?" the albino asked suddenly, fixing his friend with a small frown. "I didn't think Roddy was letting anyone but West into the house. Did you dump some tomatoes on the piano to distract him, or something?"

"No," Antonio shook his head, "I asked him really nicely and brought gifts for the both of you! I didn't know what you would be eating right now, so there are lots of soft fruits and tomatoes and—"

The Prussian snorted loudly, making the brunette stop in confusion. "That would work," he chuckled quietly with an amused look. "Give him free shit, and he'd probably… let anyone in. I swear, he learned too damn much from his trigger-happy cheese friend."

"Cheese friend…?" the brunette blinked slowly before smiling. "You mean Vash? Ahaha, it's good to see that your sense of humour is still intact… I'd miss it if you stopped making jokes."

"You're probably the only one, too. Roddy is probably thrilled that I can't walk around anymore to cause 'uncouth acts' or whatever he calls it."

"I never said that I was pleased you couldn't walk around," Roderich cut in sharply as he stepped into the room with the non-edible parts of Antonio's gift basket in his arms and a vase holding all the flowers balanced precariously atop the pile. "And I didn't let him in simply because he brought 'free things'. He is your friend, and I thought that you would enjoy a visitor who wasn't your brother."

Rolling his eyes, Gilbert grinned faintly, his eyes lighting up considerably at the presence of the brunette musician. "There you are, Roddy. 'Tonio said that you were gonna bring—shit. How many flowers did you get? Didn't the tomato faerie have a fit when he saw you buying all this?"

Giggling, the Spaniard shook his head and stood up to grab the vase before it could fall, hugging the glass to his chest. "The tomato faerie owed me a favour or two."

From the look on Antonio's face, it was hard for Gilbert to tell if the other was aware who he had meant when he said "tomato faerie", but opted not to ask. The Spanish nation was the first visitor he'd received since coming home who didn't look at him with pity or as if they were going to burst into tears, and to Gilbert that was a relief. He knew perfectly well that Antonio was the type for hiding his feelings, and normally, he would have protested and poked at the other until he confessed what was bothering him. But a smiling face was something the Prussian needed quite badly right now, and the guilt for not offering comfort was quickly pushed away by the idea that as long as he acted alright, the Spaniard's distress would likely fade away.

"In any case," Roderich began, setting the rest of his load down atop a nearby dresser. "Gilbert, I think it would be best if you had your lunch—Gilbert?"

"Oh, he's asleep…" Antonio murmured with an awed look. The Spaniard couldn't remember the last time he'd seen someone drift off so quickly, and had the albino's condition not required as much rest as possible, he would have been concerned. Alas, there was little time for him to think about what had happened before he felt himself being ushered toward the door by a stubborn musician.

"Let him sleep," the Austrian ordered, pushing Antonio toward the stairs with an authority the other hadn't seen in years. "He rarely does so anymore, and I won't allow him to lose a moment's worth of rest when he is able to grab it."

"Ah… but what about the soup you made?"

"He can have it later."

"Um…" Antonio hesitated, making small flailing movements with his arms as he tried to get a message he wasn't sure how to say across. Unfortunately, his display of odd gestures merely made Roderich raise an eyebrow as he nodded toward the door in his own silent gesture of asking the other to leave. "…Si, si. Un momento por favor…" Turning away from the Austrian's annoyed grunt of protest, the Spaniard knelt down on the edge of the bed and slowly leant forward, wrapping an arm around Gilbert's shoulders in what appeared to be his attempt at a hug without waking the other up.

"Antonio, what are you—"

"…much… of a sap as ever…" the Prussian murmured, peering up at his old friend with a tired grin. "Ruffle… the tomato-faerie's hair for me… ja?"

"Si…" Antonio chuckled and nodded. "I will, Lovi will be happy to know you're alright."

"…M'sure…" A yawn. "Don't… give him a hard time… Roddy." Another yawn. "It was… good to see you again, 'Tonio. Danke schön…"

"De nada, Gilbert. Dulces sueños."

Much to Roderich's relief, after the brief farewell, Antonio had no further protests against being asked to leave the house. The Spanish brunette quietly made his way down the main entryway of the musician's home and waited for the other to join him before offering a kind smile. "You seem to be taking good care of him… Thank you for everything… It's good to know Gilbert is happy again. His smile is back…"

"I… what?" The Austrian frowned, not understanding the other's statement.

"Lovi saw Gilbert before I did, but even he could tell his smile was fake." The Spanish nation pointed to his eyes. "It didn't reach here… I'm sure Gilbert was happy to see his brother—he loves him very much—but I think it was you who brought the smile back. So thank you. Gilbert is one of my best friends, and Francis and I would be heartbroken if we lost him."

"I don't… His smile is hardly because of—ah!" The rest of Roderich's sentence was cut off as Antonio pulled him into a tight hug, producing yet another tomato out of seemingly thin air. The red fruit was pushed into his hands before the brunette smiled again and quickly slipped out the front door, leaving the poor pianist staring after him with an expression somewhere between shock, confusion, and slight horror. "What… just happened…?" He glanced down at the tomato, giving it a look that suggested he half-expected it to answer before turning around and starting for the kitchen, intent on putting the fruit away before returning to Gilbert's room.

mochijapan


	11. Chapter Ten

kdjfklsjd... This took so long to upload again, I'm sorry... I blame my BETA. I did actually nag her a fair amount this time, but I just got the chapter this morning. It's... kinda long, I guess. I don't think it's as long as the last one by any means, but still... Stuff is starting to happen again and that should make everyone happy. Stuff is good.

Thank you to EVERYONE for your kind reviews, and I'm sorry I'm not replying to them one at a time this chapter, but I really wanted to just... updated and get it up. I assure you all that I've reach each and every one, and I was so happy to see that so many of you had answered my question about where you lived. It's so awesome to see how many different people from different countries enjoy reading my work, and it seriously... just makes me derp happy. Super. Derp._ **Happy.**_

Anyway, here is the next chapter... enjoy!

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Chapter Ten **

_**February 26th, 1990**_

A slender hand twisted itself in the folds of the skirt beneath it as Elizabeta stood nervously on the doorstep of Roderich's house. Every few seconds her hand would raise itself as if to knock on the door and then fall to back to her side where it twitched awkwardly before attempting to repeat the process. Her eyebrows were knit together in clear concern, but her emerald eyes were a storm of mixed emotion that ranged from nervousness to fear. A voice in the back of the female nation's mind was telling her that her actions were foolish and that she had no right to be there at all, while a much louder one chided her for being pathetic and not just knocking on the door already.

Giving her head a firm shake, the Hungarian gripped her dress in her fist tightly and took a half-step forward, rapping her knuckles against the wooden door sharply before moving back again. Her weight shifted from one foot to the other, an odd tightness forming in her chest as she prepared for the worst. As far as the owner of the house was concerned, she didn't even know that the home had an extra occupant as of late, thus her appearance would likely seem bizarre, especially when combined with her twitching hands and nervous look. Alas, the brunette was given little time to think about it, as the door opened little more than a minute after she knocked.

"Hallo, Eliza…" Roderich's bewildered face appeared in the doorway, a momentary look of relief falling over his features as he noted that the other was alone and allowed himself to push the door open further for her to step inside. "What brings you here?"

Elizabeta didn't respond as she stepped inside, clearing her throat quietly while the Austrian shut the door. Several minutes of silence passed with the two nations simply staring at one another before it was finally broken by the female of the two. "I… I heard that Gilbert was here…?" There was a brief pause as Roderich stared at her quizzically, his eyes widening a fraction of an inch as a faint rush of terror shot through his veins. The female brunette winced silently, realizing her slip and continued quickly. "Antonio told me," the look on the others face calmed slightly, but it was obvious he was still tense. "It was a fluke… I only found out because I figured if anyone knew how Gilbert was doing, it would be him, Francis, or his brother. I just happened to run into him and Lovino on their way to Ludwig's house to visit Feliciano, and I…" she paused with a sigh before speaking again. "…Can I see him?"

The look of bewilderment settled itself on Roderich's face for the second time and he opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it again slowly. No one was supposed to know where Gilbert was save for himself and Ludwig, but it seemed as if the news was leaking out. Still, if there was anyone Antonio could have told, the Hungarian nation would have been his preferred choice. While Francis had the capability of being serious, especially when it came to the Spaniard and Gilbert, he didn't want to deal with any of the possible romantic passes that were sure to come with the blond's visits. At least with Elizabeta, he could be sure that she would listen to him and, should the need arise, leave when he asked. "Ah… alright," he nodded and turned, gesturing to the stairs. "I… didn't think you would want to see him. You surprise me, Eliza."

The female paused, hesitating slightly as she watched the Austrian make his way up the stairs as the tight feeling in her chest made itself known again. Her fingers twitched sporadically and she was forced to clench her hands into fists at her side to hide their movements. Her knees felt weak, but her will was able to overpower the hesitation and she moved forward, gathering her skirt in her hand as she followed Roderich up the stairs. "Why wouldn't I…?" she asked softly. "Am I that bad of a friend, Roderich?"

"What…? No, of course not. I didn't mean for it to sound like that. You two… just stopped getting along as well as you used to."

A sad smile crossed Elizabeta's features as her mind began to wander back to the times of her "childhood". Despite his rough behavior, there were numerous times when Gilbert's chivalrous side and shown itself whenever she'd been in need; even if his method of help was unorthodox and, at one point, had involved him ripping off his own pants to create make-shift bandages for her. When the rift between herself and the Prussian had started, she couldn't say, but there was little doubt it had started around the time she had grown closer to the brunette in front of her. On the day of her wedding, anything that had been left of her tie with Gilbert had shattered like a vase tossed to the hard floor, and neither of them had ever taken the time put it back together. "I didn't have a chance to make it up to him," the Hungarian admitted in a quiet tone. "Neither of us did. We…" she trailed off and bit her lip. She didn't have a reason and anything her mind offered just sounded like an excuse.

"I see," the musician murmured, stopping outside the door of the room in which Gilbert currently resided. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he turned, regarding his fellow brunette with a questioning glance. "Would you rather I left you two alone, or shall I stay?"

"Ah…" Shaking her head quickly, Elizabeta's fingers twisted themselves in the hem of her skirt once more as she swallowed. The voices in her head had started fighting again and it was taking a great deal of self control to keep from darting back down the stairs and out the door. She didn't deserve to be here, not after all she'd done. She hadn't even defended the silverette when it had been time for him to be sent to Russia. Francis was the only one who hadn't bothered to voice his own country's views about the matter and spoke from a personal standpoint. "Please, stay… Not so much for me, but… I don't… That is, if he's afraid that I might hurt him… he might be more at ease with you there."

"Roddy…?" A hoarse voice caused them both to jump and turn toward the door in shock. Even through the wood it was obvious that the tone was weak and struggling to remain loud enough to be heard from so far away. "You out there? Who… was at the door? Antonio stop by again with half his garden this time?"

Elizabeta opened her mouth to question what Gilbert meant but was cut off as Roderich held up a hand and smiled faintly. Whatever it was that the other male had meant, it seemed to be funny to the Austrian and the fact that they could still share a joke was enough to calm her down. "No, Gilbert," the musician began as he opened the door. "It's Elizabeta."

The female nation followed Roderich inside silently and was forced to bite back a small whimper. Compared to what she was seeing now, the beaten and exhausted Prussian that was pulled away by Ivan was worlds better than the one sitting in the bed before her. Gilbert's shirt was open, freshly dressed bandages covering all of his chest and extending up around his neck. An eye patch covered his left eye, and if there were bandages under that, she couldn't tell. Happily, though unknown to the brunette, the majority of the gauze which had covered his face had been removed several days previous and the scars were healing neatly and leaving behind no marks. His right arm was in a sling, but other than that, it seemed that bandages were becoming minimal. "Hey there, Lizzy," the Prussian grinned weakly as he raised the half-full cup of broth in his hand in a mock toast. "Finally realize that you couldn't survive without the awesome me?"

Elizabeta could only stare at the other in slight horror. A hand rose to her mouth and she gasped softly, trying to mask the sudden dropping sensation that had formed in her stomach. Even with his sarcastic remarks, the Gilbert she was looking at just wasn't the one she knew. It was like looking at a shell of the person who used to be her childhood friend and her mind couldn't keep up with the change to properly process it. "G-Gil…" she murmured, moving forward slowly, as if expecting to suddenly be pulled back or stopped.

"That's me…" Gilbert replied with a weak grin. Crimson eyes moved up and down her figure uneasily as he pushed himself back against the headboard. "Not gonna cry, are you? I mean, I know my awesome can be overwhelming sometimes, but there's no need for that to prove it."

"A-as if you could ever make me cry," she muttered, fighting back the very tears she had just denied. "You're not that awesome."

Frowning, Gilbert racked his mind for a time he might have actually been able to make the brunette cry. Not that he would take pride in such a thing, but the way the other had said it made it sound like a challenge. "I think I've done it once before," he mused in a feigned thoughtful tone. "…Pretty sure you were pissed as hell, though." He laughed quietly and glanced around the room, quirking an eyebrow as he stared at Roderich before shifting his gaze back to Eizabeta. "Did you give him your frying pan before you came in? No offense, but I'm not in the best condition for that."

"Wh…" she paused, peering up at the Prussian through her hair. "I didn't bring it. Why would I…" she trailed off, huffing quietly. At least his sarcasm was intact; although she couldn't decide if this was something she was grateful for or annoyed with.

"Nein…?" Crimson eyes blinked slowly, unable to hide the relief that rushed through them. "That's a first. Have you finally realized that you've fallen for the awesome me and come to confess your love instead?"

With a snort, Elizabeta reached out and poked the Prussian in the forehead as his grin began to grow. The atmosphere was, happily, beginning to thin and she suddenly found the fact that he was able to be as witty as normal a good thing. "Never going to happen, Gil. Be content with who you've got, because this?" she gestured to herself, "This is so far out of your league."

"Out of mine?" the albino's grin grew again. "You've got it backwards, Lizzy." He lifted his arm slowly, pointing to himself, "This is far too awesome for you. Sure you wanna turn it down?" Somewhere on the other side of the room, Roderich coughed loudly and frowned in disapproval. "It's your only shot."

"Nah," the Hungarian smiled slightly and shook her head. "I never had shot with you to begin with. It'd be like dating my brother, you know?" She wrinkled her nose at the thought; as much as she loved the Prussian, she couldn't bring herself to see him as a lover.

Gilbert laughed again and nodded in agreement, "Guess dating a brother would be weird. I can't see myself making out with West, either. Prussian I am, but I don't want my first kiss tasking like a wurst-pasta hybrid."

"And what would you rather it tasted like?" Elizabeta leaned and quirked her eyebrow in amusement, "Cake, maybe?"

Behind her, Roderich frowned again and leaned forward slightly, straining to hear the sudden drop in tone as he glanced between the two nations. Elizabeta was smiling, Gilbert looked shocked—and somehow amused at the same time—and they were far too close for his tastes. He didn't like it; not one bit. The Prussian glanced at him and the smirk grew, making the uneasy feeling in the Austrian's stomach grow as he gestured for Elizabeta to move closer, which she did, resting her hands on her knees to avoid face-planting into the bedspread.

"I'd prefer it taste like tea and Sachertorte," the silverette murmured with a small smile, earning another loud cough from Roderich, making it obvious that the pianist hadn't heard what was said and had made an attempt to cover the fact that he was in danger of falling out of his seat from leaning too far forward.

"I knew it…" the female nation suddenly announced in full volume, sitting up straight fast enough to make Roderich jump.

"Am I that obvious?"

The Hungarian hummed quietly and shrugged her shoulders. "I've been through it too, that's all."

Normally, Gilbert would have laughed, but he couldn't ignore the feeling of guilt tugging at his chest. "Didn't mean to steal your noble steed, Lizzy. If it helps, he's too damn oblivious to notice…" the Prussian sighed and glanced out the window. "Ahaha… not that they'd feel the same. Even awesome can't make that happen."

"Gil, I got over that a long time ago…" she smiled faintly, shaking her head. "Again, it'd be like dating my brother… And you'd be surprised, I think. There are some things you haven't noticed, either."

"Yeah, right…" the albino rolled his eyes sigh a snort, "The only thing that would surprise me is if everyone didn't demand I never speak to them again. I…" The rest of the sentence was lost as Gilbert suddenly doubled over and began coughing harshly, pulling away his hand to reveal a vivid crimson against his pale skin. "F-fuck…"

The cough rang through the room like a firecracker and immediately everything happened at once. Elizabeta jerked backward, eyes wide as she began to apologize under her breath, believing that it was her talking to Gilbert that had caused him to cough in the first place. On the other side of the room, Roderich had leapt to his feet and darted forward, grabbing a glass of water from the bedside table as he stopped beside the bed. "Gilbert, here…" he held the glass to the Prussian's lips, worry evident in his violet eyes as the other began to drink quietly. "Do you need anything?"

"Y-you spazz…" the silverette coughed, fixing Elizabeta with an annoyed look. "I—" there was another pause as he coughed again and several drops of blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. "I-I'm fine… just… calm her down before she breaks something or herself."

"He'll be alright," the Austrian said, walking over to the Hungarian nation to place a hand on her shoulder. "He's okay. It's… alright. Please, sit back down." Alas, the look of doubt in Roderich's eyes did not go unnoticed by the female and it was only reluctantly that she returned to her seat.

"It's been happening for a week now," Gilbert muttered, earning a wince from the brunette male beside him. "My throat is just… raw, or something."

Elizabeta opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off as Roderich announced that he was going downstairs to take care of the glass of broth that the albino hadn't yet finished. Silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of the Austrian's footsteps as he walked out the door and shut it firmly behind him, the look on his face obviously uncomfortable.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Liz… Calm down."

"Mm…" the brunette shifted in her seat and sighed, staring at the floor. "You must be tired."

Gilbert shrugged. "I've got company."

The female nation's mouth twisted uncomfortably before she stood up, allowing herself to flash the other a small smile. "You should rest. I need to get going, anyway. It… it was good seeing you." She stood and made her way toward the door, leaving almost no time for the Prussian to protest and paused only when she reached the door. "I meant it when I said you were like my brother, Gil… Don't… don't go and die, or anything." And with that, she slipped through the door and shut it behind her, sprinting down the stairs, almost tumbling to the floor when she reached the bottom.

"Eliza…?" Roderich's voice pulled her back to earth as the brunette stepped out of the kitchen, looking surprised. "Are you alright? What… happened? Did Gilbert—"

"I-it's nothing…" she muttered, rubbing her eyes stubbornly with a tightly clenched hand. "Nothing at all. He's fine." She smiled weakly, raising a hand to rest on Roderich's cheek before leaning forward to kiss the other. "Just… don't wait too long, okay? You never know when one of you will be gone… and you both need each other more than you could ever know." Not waiting for a response, she slipped past the musician and out the front door, mumbling a quiet 'goodbye' as she pulled it shut behind her.

"What…?" Roderich blinked owlishly, staring blankly at the door as he tried to figure out what on earth the female nation had meant. It was obvious that she was referring to Gilbert, but her meaning behind him needing the Prussian was baffling. The Austrian was quite convinced that, currently, it was the other way around. Gilbert needed someone to watch over him right now, as stubborn as he was. Roderich would have been perfectly alright on his own… so he thought, at least.

Shaking his head, the Austrian pushed the thoughts from his mind and hurried up the stairs, intent on asking the Prussian what had happened upon entering the room, but the thoughts were lost as he saw Gilbert staring out the window. "Gilbert?"

"…You heard from West lately?"

Roderich blinked, not expecting the question, but understanding enough not to push. "Ah, I have. He called this morning while you were asleep to ask how you were. He still sounds quite busy."

"Did he sound like he was sleeping?" Gilbert asked, glancing at Roderich in worry. "The dumbass barely slept while I was there. I'm surprised he didn't end up passing out."

"He sounded tired, not exhausted. He's worried about you, still, but from what I understand, he is doing much better."

"Mm…" the Prussian nodded absently. "Good. He claim Feli's Vital Regions yet?"

Rolling his eyes, Roderich ignored the question. "I don't ask about things like that.

"You should," Gilbert said with a serious expression. "Stuff like that is important. West needs some good sex. It'd loosen him up."

"Gilbert… Don't be ridiculous. He'll loosen up when you're better."

"What…?" the Prussian frowned. "You mean he's denying sex because he's worried about me? Mein Gott, is he dumb? Even Feli is being obvious at this point. They've at least kissed, j-j-ja?"

The yawn which broke Gilbert's last word came as a relief to Roderich as he stepped forward and managed to ease the other into a lying position without too much fight. "…Please do me a favour and just sleep for once? You can complain to me about not being tired when you wake up."

"…Whatever," Gilbert muttered, rolling his eyes. He settled against his pillows and sighed quietly, staring blankly at the wall before asking quietly, "…play something for me?" he nodded toward the keyboard in the corner of the room with a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Of course…" Roderich smile faintly and moved to the keyboard. "What would you like to hear?"

"Mm… Whatever. Just don't blare Chopin at me. Play with your feelings or whatever the fuck you normally do."

"Is the language really needed?"

"Fuck yeah!"

"Gilbert…"

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry… sheesh." A yawn. "Just play for me, ja…?"

Smiling warmly, Roderich chuckled and shook his head. "Well then, shut up and try to sleep…" Ignoring the dark look Gilbert flashed him from being told to shut up, the brunette regarded the piano with a questioning look before nodding to himself and placing his fingers on the keys, a soft tune emitting from the keyboards electrical speakers, each note lulling the Prussian further and further into sleep before he passed out completely.

Unnoticed by the pianist or the silverette, a light red flush had started to creep over the Prussian's cheeks, marking the beginnings of a fever. It wasn't until ten minutes later that Roderich was violently pulled from his playing by a loud cough and strained breathing that filled the room.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Gosh, another chapter. Finally. I don't think there will be that many left... Maybe three or four at most including an epilogue. It really has been a long journey, ja? I hope I'm keeping up a decent enough quality to keep you all pleased. I'm really sorry the updates have been taking so long and I'm not answering reviews like I used to, but my BETA and I were so busy with finals and college and now the holidays are here and things are just insane. I tried to make this chapter long to make up for it, but I will also be uploading a PruAus side project as another apology after this chapter is added.

I really hope that makes up for my absence... Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me this far and continues to review. I love reading each and every one of them, and every review makes me feel even happier than the last.

Happy Holidays, everyone! Here is the next chapter! 8D

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Chapter Eleven**

**_April 10th, 1990_**

The dull ticking of the large grandfather clock against the wall was the only sound that broke the heavy silence in Roderich's music room. Little more than mumbled greetings had passed between the large group of nations gathered inside, and no one dared meet the eyes of another. They had all been sitting there for the better part of five hours after Roderich had sent out an urgent call that Gilbert's condition had suddenly taken a downward turn, and were waiting to hear the verdict of the doctor upstairs. None of them had been allowed to stay in the room with the silverette, and thus had all decided it was best they stay in the same room for when news finally arrived.

The atmosphere was solemn at best, and anyone who would have walked into the room without knowing what was going on would have instantly been able to tell that it was best not to say anything on the subject or ask questions.

Sitting on the couch in the center of the room was Francis, his hand clutched tightly around a full glass of wine that he seemed to have forgotten he was holding. His eyes were locked onto the floor, and the only movement that indicated that he was still aware of his surroundings was the occasional glance at the clock or doorway before it would return to the carpet again. His face was pale and expressionless, as it had been since he arrived at the Austrian manor earlier that day.

Beside him sat Matthew, the young nation's arms wrapped tightly around his ever present polar bear, his violet eyes trained carefully on the wine in his "father's" hand. Whenever the glass would tip too far to one side, he would lean forward and straighten it with a quiet squeak. The Canadian's cheeks were a rosy red, and the obvious sign of tears was present, but he had long since calmed himself down and had thrown all of his concentration into making sure that the elder beside him was okay to avoid another crack in the dam holding back his tears.

On the floor beside Francis was Antonio, sitting with his back to the couch. The smile that normally graced the Spaniard's face was gone, replaced with a blank expression that only broke when he'd look up and offer the person nearest him a reassuring grin that wouldn't last more than a few seconds. His hands trembled slightly, fingers twisting nervously around a small, plush turtle he always seemed to have on his person. The toy was flipped again and again between tanned hands, each of its movements followed by the caramel-brown eyes of Lovino who sat pressed against the Spanish nation's side. It was the quietest anyone had seen the normally loud and somewhat vulgar Italian, but his silence only seemed to be drowned out by the rest of the occupants of the room. Even Antonio himself almost missed the careful hugs that the other would sneak each time someone shifted or coughed.

Across the room in a pair of sitting chairs sat Alfred and Arthur. The English nation was staring out the window, his thick eyebrows knitted together in an expression of deep thought while his right hand absently moved itself through the air as if stroking an animal no one could see. The other was held in a firm grip, fingers laced tightly together with Alfred's who, for the first time, had said absolutely nothing since arriving and had yet to pull out a single hamburger or soda. His sapphire eyes were locked on the Briton beside him, a mixed look of sympathy, worry, and understanding gracing his features. His lips were pursed tightly together, but would twitch slightly at the corners each time he watched Arthur pull his gaze away from the window long enough to glance guiltily at the space behind the couch where Ludwig had been pacing for quite some time.

Against the back of the couch sat Feliciano, his dark brown eyes following Ludwig's never-stopping form. Even the Italian, who had a long track-record of never being able to tell when a situation was serious, had been unnaturally quiet after having followed the German nation to the house. His mouth worked wordlessly as he tried to come up with something, anything, to say that might calm his tall friend down, but nothing would come and he would be forced to lower the hand that had raised itself in an attempt to reach out. Worry danced across the Italian's features, but he, like everyone else in the room, had no idea what to say or do and the silence continued.

A soft peeping filled the room, causing several of the other nations to jump as the small yellow bird sitting in Elizabeta's lap fluttered its wings quietly. The Hungarian sat in a chair beside the piano and several more of the birds sat at her feet, their beady black eyes following the same path as Feliciano's. Every few minutes one would shuffle forward in the German's direction, only to be stopped by the female nation who would lean down and quietly urge them back around her feet in fear of the poor animals going unnoticed and being stepped on.

The last occupant of the room, sitting at the piano, was Roderich. His hands sat on the keys, poised to play, but making no effort to do so. Every once in a while his fingers would give a violent twitch, but none were strong enough to push the keys down and the silence remained unbroken. Tired violet eyes stared blankly at the sheet music resting on the piano's music stand, unable to make any sense of the lines or dots that covered them in some form of foreign language. It had been over a week since he'd actually been able to bring himself to play, and the quickly worsening condition of the Prussian upstairs was doing nothing for his mental state; it was as if his musical muse had simply disappeared with the coming of Gilbert's fever.

**_Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong._** As the clock stuck the coming of evening, the door to the room opened and ten pairs of eyes immediately darted toward the entryway. Ludwig's pacing stopped only momentarily before he started moving again with an irrigated sigh; it was just Natalya. The Belarusian pursed her lips slightly but said nothing about the disappointed looks she received and simply stepped further into the room, pushing a small cart with eleven cups of steaming tea in front of her. Antonio took his tea with a grateful smile and raised the cup to his lips but seemed to forget what to do with it, while Lovino took his with a small grumble and quiet murmur about lack of tomatoes before he thanked the girl anyway; manners with women were more important than the atmosphere. Matthew was next, nodding his thanks and looking relieved when the female nation was able to easily pry the wine from Francis' hand to replace it with the much less alcoholic beverage that she was handing out. Alfred, surprisingly enough, had taken the cup and drained it in one gulp, earning a look of disapproval from Arthur who took his own tea with an audible 'thank you' and began sipping it immediately.

Ludwig had been more difficult. The German seemed to have more interest in his pacing than the cup being held out to him; it wasn't until Natalya cleared her throat loudly that he even paid the girl a glance. His mouth twitched slightly and opened to turn down the offer, but the female cleared her throat again and frowned, placing a slender hand on the much larger nation's shoulder and pushing him into a chair. Behind her, Feliciano squeaked quietly in protest and jumped to his feet, scurrying over to the blond with wide eyes. Two cups of tea were thrust into his hands, and with some quiet coaxing in mixed German-Italian, the brunette was finally able to get Ludwig to take the cup and drink.

Feliciano smiled softly and nodded in encouragement as the German nation managed to drain half his cup before it was set down again. A small frown took place of the smile and the brunette tried to urge the cup into the other's hands again, but his efforts fell in vain when the blond's gaze became distant once more. A soft 've' tumbled from the Italian's lips as he fumbled around in his pockets, his gaze brightening when he produced what appeared to be a sting of beads with a cross dangling from one end. "Ve… Ludwig, use this," he smiled again and pressed the wooden beads into the taller nation's grasp. "If you ask for help, I'm sure that Gilbert will get it… _Parde Santo_ always helps good people."

"Ah…" Ludwig blinked, staring down at the item in his hands. "Feliciano…" It was the first time he'd spoken since arriving and the brunette could have hugged him for it. Sapphire eyes gazed blankly at the beads, staring at them as if they were speaking a foreign language. He sighed quietly and shook his head in faint amusement, offering the other nation a slight upturn of the corners of his lips. He really wasn't the type for prayer, and asking a being he couldn't see, touch, or feel for help was somewhat silly in his personal opinion. In spite of himself, though, he felt his fingers tighten around the rosary as silent pleas raced through his mind for the first time since Gilbert collapsed in his arms after coming home.

Satisfied with her victory, Natalya nodded and picked up two of the three remaining cups before moving around the couch and approaching the piano. Almost immediately, Elizabeta reacted to her close presence and fell on the defensive, cradling the small bird that had been in her lap to her chest as she urged the others under her chair. Despite the fact that the Belarusian nation was likely the only reason Gilbert was still alive, the brunette didn't trust the other female as far as she could throw her. It still remained that she was Ivan's sister, and it was Ivan's fault that they were all here in the first place, waiting with baited breath to find out of Gilbert was going to be alright. The reaction was to be expected, and instead of forcing a conversation, the Belarusian simply opted for setting Elizabea's cup down on the small table beside her chair and moving on.

Unsurprisingly, Roderich's attention was the hardest for her to get. The brunette seemed unable to pull his gaze from the keys of his piano and didn't so much as flinch when the cup of tea poked his cheek several times.

"Your tea is going to get cold," Natalya said, tapping the side of the cup against the male's cheek once more. "You should drink it before it does." She still received no form of response and huffed quietly before grabbing the brunette's hand. Immediately, Elizabeta leapt to her feet and started forward, stopping as the Gilbirds in her lap chipped painfully as they collided with the ground. Behind them, several of the nations in the room shifted their gazes over to the piano where the Austrian nation was staring up at the female holding his wrist with wide eyes. "Your tea is getting _cold_," the blonde repeated firmly. "I suggest drinking it before it cools and loses the proper flavor."

For a moment, no one moved. Not a single person in the room dared breathe as the two nations beside the piano simply stared at one another. To the side, Elizabeta was still seething silently, hand twitching at her side as if wanting to reach for the frying pan she so commonly used as a weapon. The atmosphere continued to grow more and more tense with each passing second, reaching the point of being unbearable before Roderich finally nodded once and took the tea. "…Thank you."

The words shattered the tension with ease and everyone calmed down instantly. Natalya nodded once and straightened herself, moving to pick up the last cup of tea to enjoy in the corner quietly as the previous stillness that had settled over the room returned. Happily, the silence was slightly more comfortable than before, but with the falling of some of the tense atmosphere, it had also managed to somehow become more depressing. No one else dared speak a word, as if allowing each other to talk would shatter the reality around them and they'd all find out that they weren't really waiting for anything and that the Prussian nation had actually been dead this whole time.

And then the door opened.

At first, nobody noticed, simply opting to sip their tea or stare blankly at the object nearest them. It wasn't until the doctor cleared his throat that everyone's gazes moved toward the door. Ludwig was on his feet before anyone could respond and had crossed the length of the room with Feliciano close at his heels, bouncing slightly as he tried to keep the tea in his hands from spilling. Francis seemed to freeze; his hand tightening around his now empty teacup as Matthew quietly urged him to stop squeezing it so hard for fear of the glass shattering in the French nation's grip. Antonio had gone oddly stiff at Lovino's side, who was watching the doctor with a blank look as his fingers slowly moved forward to lace themselves with the Spaniard's—pride be damned for right now; if there was bad news, the mafia was going to be reborn for a night. On the other side of the room, Alfred had stood up and moved to stand beside Arthur who suddenly looked ill. If anyone was to blame in the room for any of these events, the Englishman would have been the first to take the blame. It had been his leader who suggested that the nation of Prussia had been the "evil" to start all of this, despite the State of Prussia being amongst the Germans who were completely opposed to what was happening in their country.

The doctor paused uneasily, glancing around the room with a slightly panicked expression, as if expecting to suddenly be jumped by one of the people watching him. His hands clutched a clipboard in his hands tightly, a raspy cough filling the room as he cleared his throat. "Um, if the family of Mr. Weillschmidt would step out into the hall for a few minutes, I would like to speak with you alone."

The reaction was immediate.

Several cries of distaste filled the room, followed by the sounds of several cups being dropped and shattering against the floor. Protests in different languages all slammed the doctor at once and the man was forced to take a step back as he tried to focus and keep from being overwhelmed. It was easy to tell that everyone in the room wanted to know of the Prussian's condition, but as a doctor, he had a code to stick to. "P-please, the family—"

**_"Everyone, shut up!"_**

Silence fell over the nations as they all turned toward the piano in shock to stare at the brunette who had just shouted. Roderich's expression was completely blank, but the storm of emotion in his eyes was enough to silence anything else anyone had to say. The brunette had been all but perfectly silent the entire time and not a single country in the world could claim they'd ever heard him shout or sound so angry before. By the door, the doctor stood almost completely still, eyeing Roderich uneasily as the musician approached him and stopped beside Ludwig, arms crossed expectantly.

"U-um," the doctor glanced between the two nations uneasily before gesturing to the hallway. "If you two could step outside for a few moments, I'd like to talk to you about Gilbert's current condition."

Roderich and Ludwig nodded silently, following the medical official outside. Behind them, Feliciano whimpered quietly and stumbled forward several steps, looking unsure as to whether or not he should follow after his German friend with the tea. A hand clasped his shoulder and the brunette looked up, blinking quietly as Elizaveta smiled down at him, "Give them a few minutes alone, Feliciano. I'm sure Ludwig will come back in and let us know what's going on."

"...Ve," the Italian mumbled in response, his gaze locked with the door that his German friend had just disappeared through. Something was twisting slowly in his stomach and he didn't like the feeling at all. The feeling of foreboding that came with the twist of his insides was making him feel worse and worse; whatever it was the doctor had to say, the small brunette could only pray that it would end well for Ludwig. Biting his lip, Feliciano pulled a second rosary from his pocket and held it tightly between his hands, _"Nostro Padre Santo, noi te preghiamo di guarire..."_

LINE

The moment the door was closed behind him, Roderich turned sharply and crossed his arms, regarding the doctor with an expectant look. Far too many hours had passed without news, and he wasn't willing to wait much longer. Beside him, Ludwig was equally tense, and his features had worked themselves into something between a glare and an attempt to keep his face void of emotion. The doctor before them ran a nervous hand through his wispy hair and sighed, composing himself as much as he could before the two men who could likely crush his reputation and career if he upset them too much.

"Gilbert's condition has stabilized, but…" he paused, watching the faces of the two men in front of him change from relief, to confusion, to concern, and back to their eerily blank expressions in the space of a few seconds. "Gilbert's _will_, however… seems to be… faltering."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Roderich snapped, taking a step toward the doctor with a deep frown. "His _will?_ I find that hard to believe. There is not a single person in this world who is more stubborn than Gilbert and I cannot believe that you would even suggest that he has given up over a simple fever!"

"Roderich…" Ludwig called in a raspy, but firm tone. "Let him finish."

"No," the brunette shook his head. "No. I refuse to listen to this—I'm going to see him myself."

"Wh… w-wait! Herr Edelstein!" the doctor sputtered, struggling to find the words to make Roderich stop. "He really shouldn't have any visitors right—"

"Let him go," Ludwig muttered quietly, staring at the staircase the other nation had gone up. "If… if there is anyone in this house right now who can bring my brother's will back, it'd be Roderich. All it took was Roderich coming back to help him before… I highly doubt the same effect won't wouldn't work now. If there is anything about his condition that you are withholding, please, tell me now."

"Well…"

LINE

Upstairs, the door to Gilbert's room was pushed open quietly as Roderich slipped inside. His eyes remained locked onto the plush carpet, hesitating to raise his gaze and face the reality of what lie waiting in the bed before him. Swallowing thickly, violet eyes slowly moved upward and something thick caught in his throat.

Gilbert's skin was as white as the sheets that covered him and his breathing was laboured. The only remaining colour Roderich could place was the heavy flush from his fever on his cheeks. Slender fingers were wrapped weakly in the sheets, clenching every few seconds as fresh waves of pain caused spasms to shake the albino's body. The lack of reaction to the door opening was proof enough that the Prussian was either fast asleep or too far gone to notice—and the Austrian could only pray it was the former.

For how long he was standing there, Roderich didn't know, but he found himself ripped from his horrified daze by the door opening behind him. Turning around, he blinked slowly as his brain tried to process the sudden appearance of his German neighbour. "Ludwig..."

Without responding, the blond pushed past Roderich and moved to stand at the head of Gilbert's bed. His fingers were twitching at his sides as his face contorted into a partial look of pain that he tried to conceal. It took the German nation nearly a full five minutes before he actually moved; though when he did, it was robotic and awkward. Roderich watched in silence as Ludwig extended a hand toward his brother's face, drawing back slightly as he hesitated. It was a struggle for the German to believe that the figure before him in bed was truly his brother, and the emotions he was trying so hard to hide reflected obviously on his face for the Austrian nation across the room to see.

"When... I was younger..." Ludwig began quietly, making Roderich jump from the sudden noise. "Just after he found me on the battlefield, I got sick. I don't remember why, but I think it was because I had, according to Gilbert, 'died' in a sense and my body was attempting to reconstruct itself as... I guess 'early' Germany. I never... fully understood it, but I was quite ill. I was in bed for nearly a month, but the entire time, he didn't leave my side more than he had to. Servants brought him food when he needed to eat, and he always left someone with me when he needed to clean himself or use the bathroom. Even paperwork was done at my bedside. And yet, now... when he's even worse off now than I was then..." the blond trailed off and bit his lip. "...Why... can't I help him like he did me...?"

Roderich opened his mouth to respond but was cut off as the German suddenly pulled away from the bed with a sharp sigh. "It doesn't matter. You're able to help, and that's more than I can ask for. Just... don't abandon him. Not now. We're... all he has left. Prussia is gone, and 'East Germany'..." Ludwig didn't bother to finish as he turned himself away from his brother to look at Roderich. "You should talk to him. The doctor... said that speaking to Gilbert might help. I... need to go downstairs before Feliciano breaks something in a panic. Elizabeta is having a hard time holding him back."

Not waiting for a response, the younger of the two brothers slipped out the door without another word and left Roderich alone. Crossing the length of the room, he stood beside the Prussian's bed, forcing the lump in his throat back down. His chest constricted painfully with the sudden sensation of being strangled and he inhaled sharply, not realizing that he'd been holding his breath since Ludwig had passed him. It hurt to see the Prussian like this; it was just too far from the nation he once knew. Almost like looking at a completely different person, but his mind knew better than to believe in the shallow illusions he tried to make to keep himself calm. "Gilbert…"

The response to his voice was almost immediate, nearly making the musician jump. Gilbert's eyes opened halfway and moved slowly around the room, drifting from object to object before finally falling on Roderich. The corners of his mouth quirked upward slightly as a trembling hand reached for the Austrian, who immediately wrapped both his own around the pale one. "Gilbert…" he paused, looking the albino over as he held back a look of pain. "How are you feeling?"

The Prussian's lips moved wordlessly as he tried to answer, but no sound came and the brunette hadn't truly been expecting anything more. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out slowly to brush his fingers through Gilbert's hair, smiling faintly as the albino's eyes shut as his head pressed against the musician's hand. The heat radiating from Gilbert's body was worrisome, but his breathing had slowly begun to even out since Roderich had entered the room.

Almost an hour passed before the musician moved again, slowly pulling his hand back to rest in his lap. No longer feeling the soothing fingers against his scalp, Gilbert opened his eyes and stared at Roderich silently. How long they stayed like that, neither knew, but as the seconds passed, the silverette's lips slowly worked themselves into a gentle smile. The albino's crimson eyes were warm, sparkling against the sickly pale colouring of his skin. His lips moved for the second time that evening, and once more, no words could be formed, but Roderich didn't need to hear them to know what was being said.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the Prussian's forehead, lingering for several seconds before pulling away slowly and returning the smile. _Ich liebe dich auch…_

_The smile on your face lets me know that you need me  
There's a truth in your eyes saying you'll never leave me  
The touch of your hand says you'll catch me if ever I fall  
You say it best when you say nothing at all_…


	13. Chapter Twelve Final

So... yeah. College life sucks. It really does. It saps away all your free times and flashes you the finger whenever you try and write something that doesn't get you a grade. It's like having a constant presence over your shoulder that doesn't let you have any fun. Unless it's fun supplied by the school. Beh.

Anyway, it seems a lot of people were under the impression that Gilbert had given up at the end of the chapter for some reason. The ending was supposed to be something of an indirect love confession (saying it without saying it) and hopeful. He didn't give up, so no one worry. He's A-OK.

As for this chapter... I feel bad saying that it's the last one. I actually had a lot more planned, but after thinking about it, it seemed as if I was really jumping the shark with what I had planned. I didn't want to drag it on too long because I felt people would get uninterested or I'd bring ideas up more than once and... yeah. It doesn't seem fair to offer such a short chapter for the ending one, but... I pray that the quality and ending are enough to satisfy.

**ON A SIDE NOTE!** Some kind soul over on the HetaliaComm helped me figure out WHAT THE FAWK was going on and how to continue to upload my stories despite this HUGE bug that seems to be going around. That accounts for about a week of my lack of updating, but the story HAS been waiting to be finished for sometime. Bugs were just evil and buggy and... yeah. Now things are better. Again, apologies for that and my greatest hopes that no one will, you know, hunt me down and end me.

If anyone wishes to leave mini-drabble requsts for mini-plot holes or scenes you wished I would have added in their reviews, I will consider writing a mini-drabble side series. Kinda like a bonus chapter of cute little spin-off things. (Kinda like that one Awesome Germerica fic. BONUS POINTS TO ANYONE WHO KNOWS WHICH ONE I MEAN! YOUR DRABBLES WILL BE WRITTEN FIRST! :D)

I want to thank everyone who read and reviewed to this story. I can't begin to explain just how thankful I am for all of you who stuck with me all this time. You're all wonderful!

**Randomanime456:** Ohgosh. My writing really isn't all that impressive. But I thank you for your review and I'm so glad you enjoyed the story.

Road Trip Traveler: Here is the final chapter! I really hope it satisfies.

SchwarzeFeuer: Th-that many times? Gosh... It really isn't good enough to deserve that, but thank you!

OrianPrime92: Don't worry! Gilbert isn't dead. I was considering offing him, but I didn't want to open my door to see a mob of people with pitchforks and torches.

Jade-Silverwolf: I was actually really proud of what I did with Belarus, so I'm glad you enjoyed her so much. This is probably my second favourite story I've written after Fortune no Hikari.

Sushi Sensei: Oh, please don't cry! Take a tissue and enjoy this chapter.

Baka-chan: Oooo! Another German approving of my German-use! I get so nervous using other languages because I'm always scared that I'm going to write them wrong, but it's good to know I'm not making huge errors.

charlottetheharlot11: It really isn't nearly as good as all the praise says it is... but thank you.

LovefromSlytherin-AMLF: I'm glad that a few people seemed to understand they said "I love you" to each other without really saying it. It's sweet the silent messages that can be sent between two people, huh? Hopefully they'll actually say it to each other aloud sometime. I'd really like to write that.

argella1300: Mm... this story came out way more serious than I expected when starting it. Still, I'm glad it's good.

yepoleq: The scene between Austria and Prussia at the end and the scene with all the nations was so much fun to write. I was really proud of it. Good to know it was enjoyed.

vampiregirl878: Aww... don't worry! Austria is working his "magic."

Victoria Alatamir Wan: Here is the update! Thank you for the review. Hope it's sweet enough.

yi-chan: Aw... thank you so much! It really pleases me when someone writes a review that sells me where characterization works. I really love to know when I do well with that. Characterization is what I get most paranoid about, so it's good to know I pull it off.

fan girl 666: Gosh, I know! 150 plus reviews! I'm so happy! I'll probably end up losing it if I break 200 and run around in a happy fit of joy! XD I might even record the happy fit of joy and post it on YouTube. -derpderpderp-

AoiTatsu: Don't worry! Thank you for leaving something even when you had no words. Thank you so much!

kumonnetskazette: Don't worry about your English, thank you so much for praising my work! I hope this chapter is as good as the others were for you and I thank you for the review.

wolf of infinity: Aw... but the ending was sweet, right? It wasn't _all_ heartbreaking. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it.

KyuuketsukiNekko: The ending was the best part, I think. The most fun to write. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Ahaha. This, sadly, is the last chapter. I really didn't wanna jump the shark... but I was serious about that drabble offer.

mudkiprox: Aww... don't worry! I won't break poor Roddy's heart. That'd be too cruel.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

The next few weeks passed by slowly but smoothly. Gilbert's recovery was far from instant, but with each passing day his ghostly white skin seemed to be a little closer to its natural creamy-milk colour. This, of course, came as much welcomed relief for both the silverette as well as the people around him. With some silent pestering and _strongly worded_ letters from Roderich—and a great deal of encouragement from Feliciano—Ludwig had finally allowed himself to lower the mental wall of guilt he had built up. Now, the German nation was visiting his brother almost daily, even if his visit lasted only a few minutes after work or during his break in the afternoon. The visits seemed to work wonders on Gilbert's health, and between Roderich's stern (but oddly gentle) doting care, his brother's sudden attention, and Feliciano's smiling face, the Prussian's fever steadily began to drop and disappeared completely.

The few days after Gilbert's illness passed proved to be the most hopeful anyone could have wished for. With help, the silverette was able to ease himself into a wheelchair and be moved about the house for several hours at a time before he grew tired. Much to Roderich's pleasure, many of the accommodations from when he had been in a chair still lingered throughout the house and worked to the Prussian's advantage. The freedom of movement made tea and light shortcakes become a daily ritual between Roderich and Gilbert and, despite the albino's complaints that such things were "prissy" and "girly," both knew perfectly well the afternoon snack was eagerly awaited.

The weekend following Gilbert's complete recovery, Ludwig and Feliciano came for an overnight visit; the idea had been Feliciano's and Gilbert's. Unbeknownst to the German and Austrian nations, the brothers had planned a weekend picnic dinner in the backyard to catch up on everything missed over the years of the Prussian's recovery. At first, Roderich's annoyance with the sudden opening of his kitchen to the young Italian without permission had been loudly announced, but with some coaxing from the silverette and the pleading caramel eyes of Feliciano on his doorstep, the brunette allowed it to happen without much further argument.

A few hours later, Roderich and Ludwig were in the kitchen, washing the dishes as they watched their respective attractions through the small window above the sink. Feliciano was happily running about the yard with Ludwig's dogs that the pianist had refused to allow in the house, while Gilbert sat on a blanket surrounded by a small cluster of chicks, watching in amusement as they jumped in and out of a bowl of water near his feet. The scene was adorable at the very least, though neither of the nations inside could find a better word to do it justice.

"Gilbert is smiling more these days," Ludwig said casually as he took the plate Roderich was offering him to dry. "It isn't as forced as it used to be."

"Is that so...?" Roderich didn't look up, his gaze trained carefully on the bits of cheese stuck to a pot he was currently scrubbing at. It didn't take the trained eyes of a soldier for his washing partner to notice the sudden pink colouring of the brunette's ears. "I would assume being away from Ivan has helped."

"He's almost completely back to his old self."

"Gilbert has always been strong," the Austrian noted, holding out a ladle after having given up on the pot for the time being. "Though perhaps stubborn is a better word. He's made it through many things; this was simply a trial a little harder than the rest."

With a soft snort, Ludwig shook his head and placed the dried ladle down. "Being stubborn can only take someone so far. There is a much more obvious reason for his recovery this time—and I'm surprised that _I'm_ the first to say anything."

"Oh?"

"My brother has always been strong, I can't deny that. He is one of the strongest people I know... with or without his nation. However, even he cannot rely on himself alone, no matter what he claims to be true. He has only made it this far because he's always had someone to live and be strong _for."_

"He did have you at his side for a fair deal of his recovery; I assume that has worked wonders. Though I never took you as the type to boast about such things. You're brothers, after all, I doubt anyone would question your ability to help him through a rough patch in his life."

Before he could stop it, laughter spilled from Ludwig's lips, earning a surprised look from Roderich. "It wasn't _me_ who helped bruder recover, Roderich."

Frowning, the pianist opened his mouth to ask the German what he meant, but Gilbert's voice drifted in through the open window. "Oi! What the hell is taking you two so damn long! Wash the dishes and bring the lemonade out already. Feli and I are thirsty!"

"Tch... I can see your brother's lack of patience has yet to return at all."

Shaking his head, Ludwig ushered Roderich away from the sink. "Humour him for now. The lemonade is on the counter. I'll finish these up. It's the least I can do for the little stunt those two pulled. He'll keep shouting if you don't go out."

"You spoil him..."

"As do you."

Not bothering to respond, Roderich rolled his eyes and dried his hands, moving swiftly over to the lemonade. "...I will see you in a few minutes."

Unable to hold back a small smile, Ludwig watched from the kitchen window as Roderich crossed the yard and set the lemonade down on the blanket, yelping loudly when he was suddenly pulled down onto it by Gilbert. A loud string of scolds and annoyances in German could be heard, only to be drowned out by the sound of his brother's laughter. The brunette's cheeks flushed heavily as he was all but tugged into the others lap, earning a smirk and pair of arms around his waist.

Smiling, Ludwig returned his gaze to the sink and started on the pot Roderich had been having issues with earlier, effortlessly removing the dried cheese with the use of a sponge. He was, by no means, an expert with romance, nor did he desire to be. Francis had more than enough knowledge for all the nations at least ten times over and the thought of being anything remotely like the self-named "nation of love" gave the blond nation a nasty taste in the back of his throat. However, even to one as oblivious to the emotion of love as he was, it was easy to see that, before the month was out, the seemingly affectionate gestures between the two would evolve into something more. "I always knew you would be the one to save my brother, Roderich... It was always you—it always has been. As long as you stay by his side... he'll be able to stand up with ease. So thank you... it was a long and twisted road, but even with your poor sense of direction... you managed to bring him back home."


End file.
